12. 17 Years Ago
Chapter twelve
The pack of feral boys arrived, a band of nomads hopped up on sugar courtesy of their post-lunch trip to the canteen.
Towels and T-shirts lay carelessly over their heads to protect their scalps from the scorching sun.
The male counselors who were lifeguards wore red shorts and lanyard whistles around their necks that matched the red tank one-pieces the female lifeguards wore.
The cut of those suits accentuated the round swells of the more well-endowed guards, like Callie.
That summer, I was obsessed with breasts, constantly checking my chest for when my own might arrive, in much the same way I waited for a care package from my parents to show up at the camp office.
So far, both were a no-show this summer.
Still, I tried to look good, having chosen a blue and white striped bikini that showed off my long legs and tanned stomach.
My hair cascaded down my back in tangled waves.
Boys were noticing. Case in point: at the end of the first session, I performed at the Council Fire with my dance class.
I was in the back row focused on getting all the steps right when I heard, “Yeah, Taylor!” coming from one of the older boys.
I almost tripped over my own feet. Catcalls?
Other boys joined in. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
When the performance was over, Matt gave me a high five.
“You looked awesome,” he told me. “Like you were glowing, with the giant fire behind you.”
I noticed the boys, too. Finn Zeigler, for example, was the lifeguard who led the giant, straggly pack of boys down the beach, and when he was shirtless, I couldn’t help but admire the golden tan of his skin and the way his chest hair glimmered in the sunlight.
He had a tattoo of a python on his calf, which simply served to remind me how much older he was.
Totally out of my league. But hot, regardless.
“Scooch, Roberts,” Matt said, hip checking me at my towel. “Make room.” He laid his plush, oversized towel out in the spot I’d saved for him.
“Got snacks?” I asked.
“You know it. Check in here,” he replied, sliding his backpack off one shoulder and handing it over.
A long can of Pringles potato chips was wedged along the side of the pack, next to a bag of Sour Patch Kids and a Charleston Chew that was probably frozen at some point but now perspired all over the extra T-shirt he had rolled up around his MP3 player. “Help yourself.”
I slid the Pringles out of the backpack. “Did your mom send these?” They weren’t available for purchase at the canteen, thereby making them the most exciting snack of the three options.
He nodded. “Yup. Got the package yesterday. Saved them for today, though.”
“That’s why you’re my favorite,” I said into his ear while giving him a quick hug from behind.
That was new also, the touching. We’d both been testing the waters with it.
A little hug here, a playful shove there.
I kept to myself with the boys at school; despite noticing several of them, I never wanted to draw attention to myself.
Those boys (and the cool girls who laid claim to them) all knew my back story—at least enough of it that I knew none of them would ever seriously consider me a real option for a potential girlfriend.
Nobody wants to date a girl whose family has no money.
At camp, it was different. The only person who knew about my family was Matt—and Lisa, a little, from a few years ago when we were closer. Here, I could forget all that and just be myself: silly, funny, sarcastic, and even maybe a little flirty.
That summer, Matt let his hair grow out into a long, shaggy, Joe-Jonas-esque situation, and he was taller than me by a good four inches.
His arms and legs looked lanky, probably due to the myriad sports he played during the year.
He had a farmer’s tan from spending the past few weeks in the sun every day with a T-shirt on.
But his braces had come off that year, and his teeth were straight and white, giving him a perfect smile.
His jawline was becoming more defined as much of the baby fat had recently melted off his face, leaving behind a lone dimple in his left cheek.
His brooding eyebrows made his blue eyes pop.
Girls noticed. Lots of girls. So many girls that I caught myself feeling jealous on more than one occasion. But if Matt was aware of the attention, he played it off well, behaving as if I was the only girl on his radar.
“So, what do you think? Want to swim first? Or go look for beach glass?”
I crunched on a chip, thinking. I don’t really want to get all sandy and sticky after coming out of the water, but it is hot. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.”
“Swimming it is, then. C’mon, piglet. Put the chips away.
” He laughed. I rolled my eyes, popped a final chip into my mouth and pushed the lid down on the canister.
He reached for my hand and pulled me up from the towel.
We approached the pair of lifeguards with the Buddy Board, a running list of names and numbers.
Every 15 minutes, the guards would blow two long whistles and shout, “Buddy up!” Then, they’d count off all the pairs until everyone who had checked in to swim was accounted for.
The guard wrote the number 26 on our hands in black Sharpie. “Have fun,” he said.
“Race ya,” Matt challenged me, and sprinted into the water. Three splashy leaps were followed by a sloppy head-first dive.
“You win!” I called out as his head emerged from under the surface.
“Stay with your buddy!” I heard the guard on the stand call out.
I waded into the water gingerly, rocks stabbing the balls of my feet. The water was cool and refreshing. I lurched forward into a front crawl and caught up to Matt.
Treading water, I smacked him on the bicep. “We’re supposed to stay together, jerk!”
“Then you need to work on keeping up, Roberts. Not my fault you’re slow.” He grinned.
“I hate you,” I retorted with a smile.
“Wrong. You love me,” he said, looking me dead in the face. Despite the heat of the day, a chill rushed through my body.
This was how we were that summer.
“Follow me. There’s a sandbar this way.” He took me by the hand and pulled me a bit farther out towards the horizon.
He dragged his toes along the bottom until he found the soft cushion of sand.
The current raced from his body into mine like a lightning bolt through a conduit of skin.
“Ahh. Here it is.” He relaxed his grip on my hand and rested his feet. “You can stand here.”
I placed my feet down on the sandbar, the water up to my shoulders.
“Yo, Thompson!” Ryan Powell called out, swimming towards us.
Ryan was one of the rich jocks from Garden City who was slumming it by spending his summer at camp instead of at his family’s compound on Martha’s Vineyard, a fact he shared all too often with anyone who would listen.
No one could stand the kid’s abrasive personality, but even I had to admit he was good looking, which explained why the girls in my cabin gave him more than just the time of day.
Following Ryan was Lily Graham, who was by far the prettiest girl in my age group, and trailing them were Corn Chip and Lisa, the summer’s newest couple.
Lisa had developed big boobs during the school year; I had no idea how she got so lucky.
The four of them met us on the sandbar. I crossed my arms over my chest.
“What’s up?” Matt answered.
“Truth or dare,” Ryan began.
“Um, no,” Matt countered.
“Come on! We’re all playing. We needed one more couple,” he explained.
Matt looked at me. “We’re just friends,” he clarified.
“Yeah, we’re not a couple,” I confirmed. I felt myself blushing, though in the sun, I hoped no one would be able to tell.
“Yeah, right,” Lisa rolled her eyes. We were back to being friends this summer—sort of. At the very least, we were operating under an unspoken truce. Lily was admiring her self-manicured nails, and Corn Chip just stood there.
“Makes no difference. You guys are perfect,” Ryan decided. The group rearranged itself into a small circle. “And, because you were the first ones in the water, you get to go first. Truth or dare,” Ryan challenged Matt.
“Truth, I guess.” I could sense his discomfort.
“Is it true that your girlfriend’s broke?”
Lily snickered. Ryan looked emboldened. Lisa chewed on the inside of her cheek. Obviously, she had run her mouth about what little she knew of my home life from previous summers. Some friend. I felt like the Pringles might repeat on me. I swallowed, afraid of vomiting right there in the water.
“Excuse me?” Matt asked.
“You know. Broke. Like, poor?” Ryan clarified. “Without money? A total charity case?”
Matt looked like a deer in the headlights. “Are you fucking serious?” he asked.
“Hey,” Corn Chip said to Ryan. “Dude, that’s not cool.”
“The answer is no,” Matt went on. “I’ll remind you, I don’t have a girlfriend, asshole. Okay, my turn then.” His face was getting red. “Ryan. Truth or dare.”
“Truth, I guess,” he smirked.
“Is it true that your parents shipped you off to camp so they could iron out the details of their divorce?” he asked, taking a step closer to Ryan so he wouldn’t be heard by the counselors in earshot.
At that, Lisa and I passed a silent look between us. Even Corn Chip seemed uncomfortable. “Is that true?” Lily asked.
“How’s it feel being put on blast?” Matt went on.
“Like I care,” Ryan announced. “Anyway, a real man goes for the dare. So, go on,” he continued. “Dare me to do anything.”
“I’m good,” Matt declared. “How about you just answer the question?”
“How about you accept a dare then?” Ryan countered. “I’ll answer your question if you do one thing first.”
“What is it?” Matt asked.
“Kiss her.” Ryan nodded at me. “Show us all what it looks like to be ‘just friends’ and I’ll gladly spill every boring detail about my dumb family.”