Chapter 39
“Color War breakout is tomorrow,” Teddy said.
I covered my ears. “Shhh! I want to be surprised.”
“You’re adorable.” He kissed me. “But seriously, I probably won’t be able to meet you the next couple of nights. I need to be available to help the captains and won’t be able to sneak away.”
“You mean your job is getting in the way of our romance?”
“Hmmm, yes, our romance will unfortunately have to take a short break, but I’ve thought of a way of making up the time.”
“You’ve learned how to stop the clock?”
“Unfortunately not but I’ve figured out how to make it work in our favor.”
I adored how his crow’s feet crinkled when he smiled.
“Stay with me an extra night in the lake house.”
“I admire a man who has a contingency plan.”
The next day everyone was abuzz due to the imminent arrival of Color War. Even though this was my first sleepaway experience, I knew Color War was the highpoint of camps across the country.
By dinner, the dining hall was vibrating with anticipation. Looking at the innocent faces of the Cubs, I smiled. Leah no longer cried every time she saw me, and Sarah had made one real friend. To my astonishment, I felt a burst of pride.
At Flagpole, Bethany stopped midsentence when we heard a thunderous noise approaching from the distance.
The sound grew louder. We looked up to see a helicopter hovering above us.
The flag whipped furiously, ponytails flapped, and everyone was screaming but you couldn’t hear them over the roar of the blades.
A cloud of what looked like huge white snowflakes showered down on us. We were bombarded with ping-pong balls with the words brEAK OUT written in neon green announcing the start of Color War.
As the helicopters flew off, the Swans went into a frenzy.
Bethany stood at the flagpole, bullhorn in hand, trying to give directions, but she couldn’t control the chaos.
The Swans ran behind the cabins and all the girls followed.
I looked at Abby, shrugged, and ran after my group. Genie led the pack.
The basketball courts were up a short but steep hill. I impressed myself with how easily I kept up. I thought about how my civilian friends would regale me about their summers spent at exotic beach locations while I’d never worked so hard in my life. The ironic part was that I was having a blast.
Panting, I reached the basketball courts and saw the Swans jumping and shouting, “One, two, three, four, we want Color War.”
Bethany pulled up with Mindy and Marilyn in a golf cart, carrying a portable amplifier. After a few minutes, Bethany was able to calm the campers down and take control.
“OMG, I’m so excited. I love Color War.” Genie was beaming.
“I bet your Swan summer you were a captain,” I said.
“Yup, and my team won. We had dynamite songs.”
“Which you wrote.”
Genie made jazz hands, “You know me, I’m a Broadway Baby.”
Marilyn announced the team captains and co-captains, and the Swans went wild, screaming, hugging, crying, and then tackling the newly appointed leaders.
The team names were announced to more squeals—Winter Greens and Summer Whites.
You could practically smell the charge of electricity crackling through the air. I was covered in goosebumps when Zelda jumped up beaming and joined the Summer Whites, slapping hands with her teammates. By the time Hazel’s name was called, I was a blubbering mess.
“Did I catch you misty-eyed earlier this evening?” Mindy twirled the ice in her wine glass as I squeezed a lime into my gin & tonic.
“Don’t tell me the woman who had her kids’ bags packed and one foot out the door was sentimental,” Bethany said.
“Okay, I’ll admit the whole girl empowerment thing was special. I wasn’t certain that I’d made the best decision to stay at Woodlands until the bitter end, but yeah, watching my daughters’ excitement was gratifying.”
Gilda asked, “So now that you’re within spitting distance of finishing an entire summer, are you signing up to rejoin the cult next year? Have you drunk the Kool-Aid?”
Part of me wanted to tell them that not only had I bought into the cult, I was in negotiations with Teddy to mix a whole new recipe for bug juice. I held up my cup. “You know I only drink gin.”
“Come on, you know what I mean.”
“I’ve drunk gallons of bug juice and become a Camp Woodlands disciple.” I held up my plastic cup. “Thank you for supporting me through all the nonsense, so I could make it to the other side. Cheers.”
Bethany grinned. “I’m looking forward to working with you next summer.”
Mindy held up her iced red wine. “Here’s to next summer and the best part of camp—Color War!”
After my morning walk in the drizzle, I stopped in the dance studio to stretch.
In front of the full-length mirror was a disheveled woman wearing baggy sweatpants with the camp’s zip code plastered across her butt.
I tilted my head, pulled my hair apart, and saw four different shades of disgusting.
Brown and gray roots at the base, the middle was what was left of the auburn color I paid top dollar for every six weeks, the ends were strawberry blonde.
I was almost forty and was walking around with a multicolored bush sprouting from the top of my head.
On the one hand it was difficult to believe how unkempt I’d become but also liberating not worrying about how I’d looked for the past two months.
But I’d book a hair appointment before I left camp.
What did Teddy see when he looked at me? If I asked him, he’d say something suave in his beautiful accent, like, “All I see is the beauty of your heart.”
Hooking my slicker on the ballet barre, I bent over and mussed my hair so it wasn’t matted against my scalp.
I pulled my loosely hanging shirt back, tying a knot at the base of my spine.
I’d lost at least ten pounds. I struck different poses trying to find the na?ve woman who’d walked into Woodlands almost two months ago.
The face staring back was set on a long neck and straight back with shoulders that seemed broader.
I smiled looking at her, and in return I received a smirk of someone who had a self-assured air about her.
I strode into the arts & crafts studio and poured myself some dirty-water coffee. “I could really use a day at a salon. Do you think Marilyn would mind if I took some time off? I’ll drive into town for a day of beauty and relaxation—a massage, dye job, and a mani-pedi. Wanna join me?”
“Desperately. I haven’t been this slovenly . . . ever,” Abby said.
“Come on, ladies, you can stand a few more days of looking like schlumps. Everyone knows by now that Abby’s not a natural blonde and Lori isn’t a real redhead,” Maggie said.
I fluffed my hair. “Auburn.”
Roger was scanning the day’s schedule. “Today’s big Color War event is the marathon relay.”
“Speaking of marathons, we’re at the end of ours. Even with all our bellyaching, it flew by.” Abby dunked a biscotti.
“It’s like having a baby . . . each day is an eternity and then, in a blink of an eye, they’re old enough to go to camp . . .”
Abby continued my thought, “With their mothers.”
We laughed.
The relay was the last of the Color War competitions.
There were different legs of the race: kayaking, an egg toss, kicking a soccer goal, backflipping on a balance beam, jumping rope, and passing a water bucket to fill a tub.
My personal favorite was chewing a piece of Bazooka and blowing a bubble.
Intentionally, there was an activity that every camper could successfully accomplish, regardless of their skill set.
The last leg of the relay was a two-mile race that started at the ski dock, continued up two steep hills, and ended at the campfire site, where all two hundred and fifty girls would gather, waiting.
The first runner from each team to arrive tagged a person designated to start a fire.
The flame had to burn through a rope that was strung three feet above the blaze.
Everyone’s reward for the afternoon’s efforts would be s’mores.
At breakfast that morning, Jordana, one of the two Color War captains, approached me as I scooped granola onto a yogurt parfait. “Lori, my team voted to have you as the DL starting our fire.”
“I’m flattered, but if you want to win you should pick someone else. I’ve never started a campfire.”
“Nope, we all agreed. We want you.” She beamed at me.
“I don’t want to disappoint you and the entire Green team.”
“You won’t. Besides, if you can’t get a flame going within ten minutes, someone is allowed to help you.”
“You’re sure about this?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
Watching her walk away, I prayed for rain.
Mike was at the campfire site when I arrived. He was wearing a pair of wellies, hip-hugging ripped jeans, and a hoodie zipped up just enough not to keep you guessing what lay underneath. At his side was a fire extinguisher.
“Don’t tell me,” he asked, “they picked you to start the fire?”
Before I could respond, I heard Zelda before I saw her. I turned as she said to Tara, “This is perfect—our team’s gonna win. My mom doesn’t know how to make a fire.”
I was done doubting myself. I would no longer allow Ronnie, my kids, Mike, Jack, or anyone else to make me feel incompetent.
Slowly the bleachers surrounding the campfire pit filled up. My radio screeched—it was Bethany letting us know that the runners were on their way.