Chapter 8
I awoke to the shrill beeping of my cheap alarm clock and turned it off immediately, aware of how thin the walls were.
I chose to get up almost an hour before the rest of my cabinmates so I’d have the bathroom to myself. I also had time for a brisk walk around the campus before meeting Abby, Maggie, and Roger for coffee.
The only activity in my day that didn’t require me to think was getting dressed.
I slid open a drawer, pulled out a white Hanes V-neck men’s T-shirt and a pair of kelly green Soffe shorts.
I grabbed a hoodie and laced up my sneakers in the hallway.
I stood on the porch, took a deep breath, and was off.
On the side of the road, I saw Abby talking on a cell phone in her car, in the only spot where she could get reception. I waved and picked up my pace.
“What’re you doing up so early?” Jack asked.
“I like this time of the morning, it’s peaceful, no one’s up—well, aside from the two of you and Abby.” I pointed toward the idling car.
“Yeah, this time of the morning is sacred for camp directors. Another successful day has passed, and a new one’s beginning,” Jack said. “Where’re you off to?”
“For a walk down to the lake before breakfast.”
“Where’s your radio?” Jack asked.
“In my room. I didn’t think I’d need it this early in the morning.”
“You should always have it with you. You never know when you might need to contact someone. What if you needed help?”
It felt less like advice and more like a scolding. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll take it with me next time.”
“Okay. If you’re by the lake and need someone, Mike’s down there in his trailer,” Marilyn said as they drove off.
I wanted to believe the Bergers were looking out for my best interests. But instead, I thought, there goes my peaceful morning walk. It occurred to me that the Bergers pretty much owned me for the next eight weeks.
I cut across the girls’ campus and ran down the hill to the path that led to the lake. Running always gave me a feeling of freedom, and I needed to feel that sensation. When I reached the water, I stopped at the edge, leaning forward with my hands on my thighs to catch my breath.
“What are you doing in my front yard?”
My racing heart jumped. “You just scared the crap out of me,” I said, turning to face a man wearing a camp hoodie, unzipped, no shirt underneath, and green plaid pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. “You must be Mike.”
He stood straight and saluted me. “At your service. Why’re you alarmed?
I live down here. I’m the one who should be surprised.
You’re Lori, right?” He gave me a once-over and smiled, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
“I don’t usually get early morning visitors.
Join me for a cup of coffee, freshly brewed?
” He ran his hand through his bedhead hair.
“Thanks for the offer, but I have a standing date for coffee,” I said as I jogged off.
I entered the studio and the screen door slammed behind me, immediately getting everyone’s attention.
“Hey, Lori, anything wrong?” Maggie asked.
“Are we on the clock 24/7? It hit me during my run that we’re truly at the Bergers’ beck and call for the next eight weeks.”
“Seven days times eight weeks multiplied by twenty-four hours a day, that makes, let’s see . . . 1,344 hours,” Roger said.
“Are we talking consecutively?” Abby asked.
“Less our days off,” Maggie said.
“Math aside, he knows when we’re sleeping . . .” I said.
“. . . he knows when we’re awake,” Abby added.
“And there are enough eyes and ears around here that he definitely knows if you’ve been bad or good,” Maggie said. “I’ll get you coffee while you fill us in.”
“I met Mike down by the lake—the guy who lives in the trailer at the waterfront. There was something, I don’t know, something salacious about him, you know, part sexy, part skanky.”
“Salacious Mike. I love that. Can we start calling him that? At breakfast later I’m gonna say, ‘Hey, Salacious Mike, can you please pass the salt?’” Maggie said.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to make fun of a military man, especially a Navy SEAL. They can kill you with their bare hands,” Roger said.
“What Lori says is true. We bartered our freedom in exchange for free camp for our kids,” Abby said.
“That makes me feel dirty,” I said.
“Your feelings match the coffee—both dirty.” Maggie handed me a cup.
“What’re we gonna do with this revelation?” I asked.
“We signed on to work here for the summer, so let’s reframe it as a fun adventure we get to share with our kids.”
“You know, Maggie, I find it irritating how you always see the big picture so clearly and put it into words so succinctly.” Abby dunked a cookie into her coffee.
Maggie shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
“I guess I can get through anything as long as I can see the light at the end of the tunnel,” I said. “At least we have each other for the next eight weeks. I’m happy we’ll be sharing this experience together—otherwise I think I’d lose my mind.”
“How bad can it be? Mindy and Bethany keep coming back year after year,” Maggie said.
Abby and I trudged up another hill after having spent most of the day walking up and down the stairs of the four Cubs and four Chipmunks cabins.
We had decided to do the bunk assignments together. The cabins looked bleak with only the bare bunks lined up against the walls.
We sat opposite each other while I flipped pages to find the info on campers in cabin one. I read the special needs out loud.
“Let’s see. Sarah is afraid of the dark.”
“We should put her in the back because the bathroom light will be on all night,” Abby said.
“Good idea.” I wore a roll of masking tape like a bracelet and wrote Sarah’s name in black sharpie on a strip that I stuck on the bunk where she would sleep.
We spent the rest of the day making beds and putting away clothes, toiletries, and sports gear sent ahead by parents. This way when the campers arrived they’d be greeted with familiar items from home.
In the last cabin, Abby started laughing. “Where should we put Samantha? She’s afraid of sharks.”
We just lost it, giggling uncontrollably. When we caught our breath, Abby said, “In all seriousness, it’s important deciding where these girls sleep.”
“Whad’ya mean?”
“Will she fight with the girl next to her? Will it be drafty sleeping under a window?”
“Or will they become BFFs and be the maid of honor at each other’s weddings?”
“I wasn’t thinking quite so long term, but yeah, that’s what I mean,” Abby said.
“If that’s true, I hope we didn’t screw this up because at the end of the day, every day, it’ll be our headache.”
“Or our joy.” Abby smiled.
Whatever the outcome, it took the entire afternoon to decide the fate of ninety-six campers and twenty-four counselors.
The evening activity was Campfire Karaoke. When we arrived at the clearing, there was a fire blazing in the stone pit. The karaoke equipment was set up and people were milling about. Maggie and Roger waved us over to where they sat on benches facing the campfire.
Roger thumbed through a list of songs. When he found what he was looking for, he put in his request.
“Roger used to be the lead singer for a band when we were in college. I was his biggest groupie. Still am,” Maggie said.
Jack picked up the microphone and welcomed everyone to the annual orientation, Campfire Karaoke.
“I like to start off each summer singing that funny camp song . . .”
I yelled out, “‘Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh’!”
“Yes! Come sing it with me.”
Abby squeezed my arm. “Teacher’s pet.”
I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. I turned to the other DLs, “Who’s with me?”
Sam, who was half my age and would be Zelda’s DL, said, “And commit social suicide?”
Jack spoke into the microphone. “Come on, Lori, can’t keep our audience waiting.”
I shrugged. “Time to face the music.”
The song was cued. “‘Don’t leave me out in the forest where I might get eaten by a bear.’”
It was fine at first, but then Jack draped his arm around my shoulders, making me uncomfortable. When I maneuvered away, he grabbed my hand. His palms were sweaty, but I managed to keep a smile on my face the entire time.
“‘Muddah, Fadduh, kindly disregard this letter.’”
I shook myself free and gave Jack a high five to avoid the possibility of a hug and quickly handed the microphone to Di, who was waiting with the next group up, the Aussie contingent who thundered to “Down Under.”
Gilda patted me on the back. “You handled that like a pro.”
A few songs later it was Roger’s turn. It was incongruous to see this oversized man not only belt out “It’s Not Unusual” in a deep, sexy Tom Jones voice, but he swiveled his large frame around like a professional dancer.
The entire staff were on their feet dancing, singing, and cheering Roger on. I was bopping between Maggie and Abby when Abby said, “Remember how women used to throw their undies at Tom Jones?”
I was caught up in the moment and without another thought, I reached under my T-shirt, unhooked my sports bra, pulled my arms through the straps, and tugged it out of my sleeve. I stood on the bleachers, swinging it above my head.
“‘It’s not unusual to find out I’m in love with you . . .’”
The crowd went into a frenzy when I tossed it, and it landed on Roger’s belly. Astonished, he picked it up. The look on his face was priceless. He had a huge grin and he gamely twirled it above his head and flung it back into the crowd.
I surprised myself—I hadn’t done anything that spontaneous and silly since I had taken my bra off while studying for finals in one of the carrels in the science library, and my roommate grabbed it and slingshot it over the cubicle.
Maggie and Abby had tears streaming down their faces from laughing so hard.
I watched the trajectory of the bra as it spiraled into the crowd. People were tripping over each other to catch it as if it were the home run–winning ball at a World Series. I couldn’t tell who nabbed it and wondered if I’d ever see it again. At least it was clean.
Abby handed me her hoodie. “Here, put this on. It’s apparent that you’re cold.”
Gilda found me once again. “I hate making a fool of myself even though I always manage to. But you, you don’t seem to mind.”
“Thanks. I think.”
“What I mean is that you’re good at it—you intentionally make people laugh.”
I excused myself. I wanted to tell Roger how great he was, but then Ted appeared in front of me, my bra dangling from his finger. “I believe this belongs to you.”
I took it, balling it in my fist. “Did you catch it?”
“No, but I made sure to retrieve it before it ended up flying from the flagpole tomorrow morning.”
I hoped it was too dark for him to see me blush. “How very gallant of you.”
He had a playful smile. “I’m glad you took my advice seriously.”
“And that was?”
“Have fun and be campy.”