Chapter 3
Jack and Marilyn asked for everyone’s attention. Marilyn’s demeanor had softened, and they both had ingratiating smiles.
“Welcome to Woodlands! I’m Jack, and this is my lovely wife and co-director Marilyn.”
Marilyn waved.
“Take out the orientation schedules from your knapsacks. I would like you all to follow along as we go over this week’s schedule. If you’re a counselor, the cover sheet is green; if you are a specialist, the cover sheet is blue; and the senior staff’s cover is orange.”
I turned to Gilda, “Senior staff? Did Jack call us old?”
“At camp we’re definitely the alta kockers,” Gilda said.
Jack reached into a box on the stage and pulled out dark green T-shirts rolled up and tied with white ribbons. Marilyn began calling out names and Jack tossed the shirts.
Gilda leaned into me. “Each returning staff gets a loyalty T-shirt with a new slogan on it. This summer it’s ‘Back by Popular Demand.’”
Marilyn called Gilda’s name. She popped up, smiling, caught the shirt and held it high above her head as if it was the championship boxing belt and turned so the entire room could see how proud she was. There was a smattering of applause and a few whoops.
I whispered in Abby’s ear, “Do you think we’ll be sitting here next summer having T-shirts thrown at us?”
“I can hardly believe I’m sitting here right now.”
Marilyn talked about the importance of keeping proper tabs on the campers. “In the papers we gave you, there’s a blank bunk report. Those need to be filled in daily. You are our eyes and ears. Jack and I need to know what happens during the day for all five hundred campers.”
Then a man named Bob, head of Boys Camp, spoke about how everyone’s time off worked. Then he introduced me. “Everyone, once again, this is Lori. She’s going to be the DL for the Cubs this summer. Lori, please stand up.”
“Do I get a T-shirt?” I said, laughing.
“We’ll have to see if you’re T-shirt worthy,” Jack wisecracked.
“That felt a little harsh,” I whispered to Gilda as I sat down.
“Yeah, when Jack’s at camp, all the charm he laid on getting you to sign up gets flushed down the toilet. I always say it’s one of the reasons for the sketchy plumbing.”
“Next up is Abby, the DL for the Chipmunks,” Bob said.
As Abby stood, I looked around the room and saw Ted leaning against the back wall. Between us were the fresh-faced young men and women, smiling and wearing the same shirt. A chill went through me causing me to shudder.
“Are you okay?” Gilda asked.
“It’s weird, all of us dressed alike.”
“Does it make you feel like you’ve been dropped into the middle of a cult?”
“Yeah, kind of.” I let out a nervous giggle.
“And you haven’t even drunk the Kool-Aid yet.” Gilda laughed.
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
“Why would you think I’m trying to make you feel better? I think summer camps are cultish You either buy into it, or you don’t. Let’s talk at the end of the summer, and you can let me know your thoughts then.”
I wanted to continue our conversation, but I heard Marilyn asking the female staff to head to the theater on the girls’ side.
Abby and I headed out together. We were halfway down the gravel path when Marilyn pulled up next to us with another woman riding shotgun and wearing expensive-looking sunglasses.
“Hop in,” Marilyn said.
We climbed into the back of the cart.
“Hi, I’m Bethany, the head of Girls Camp.”
Before we could reply, Bethany turned away and Marilyn jerked us forward. I held on tight, but Abby flew into me as we sped away. So far, the most important takeaway from the day was that golf carts didn’t have seat belts.
Marilyn and Bethany were engrossed in conversation.
Abby had scribbled “Bosses?” on a notepad and nodded toward Marilyn and Bethany. I nodded yes.
Bethany’s beautiful golden tresses shimmered in the sun.
I caught hints of colored highlights, and I wondered what it would look like at the end of the summer after at least two missed salon appointments.
Come to think of it, I’d miss my appointments with Zito.
By the end of August, we’d all be washed out with our grays showing—the senior staff moniker would ultimately fit.
We came to an abrupt stop in front of the girls’ theater.
Inside the theater was a sea of youth and beauty. I was used to being around large groups of awkward adolescents, but the last time I had been surrounded by so many striking young women must’ve been when I was one of them.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling ancient,” I whispered to Abby.
“You got that right, girlfriend.”
Gilda led an attractive, tall brunette with beautiful porcelain skin over to us. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.
“This is Di. She lives in room three of your cabin.”
We made our introductions and Abby asked, “Are you a division leader also?”
“No, I’m the head of sail,” Di said with an Australian accent.
“What do you sell?” Abby asked.
“She said sail as in boats, right?” I asked.
Di had a cute giggle. “Yes, like boats. I take it you two aren’t sailors.”
“I’m a city girl. I get queasy watching a rubber duck in a bathtub,” I said.
“So, I guess I won’t see you on water skis?”
“You know, I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“Well, you won’t see me sailing, skiing, or whatever you do on a lake. I’m not a bathing-suit person,” Abby said.
“What does that even mean?” I asked.
“Exactly what I said. I’m much happier swimming in this humongous shirt than in the water.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t have my job because I have to wear bathers all day, every day,” Di said.
Marilyn called for everyone’s attention.
“I’m going to sit with my mates,” Di said. “See you later.”
“I would’ve thought they’d put someone more our age into the cabin with us,” Abby said.
“Look around, how many people our age are in this room?” I asked.
The last person to speak was Dr. Jenny. She taught us how to identify tick bites and the inherent dangers if not properly and quickly diagnosed.
Then she talked about the importance of sunscreen not only for ourselves but for the campers.
She urged us to make sure each camper was sufficiently and repeatedly slathered.
Dr. Jenny stepped away from the microphone and leaned toward the audience. In a conspiratorial whisper she added, “I am available to talk privately if any personal matters, shall we say, pop up during the summer.”