Camp’s wonderful. I only hope it stays that way once the campers get here later today.
I lie in bed, listening for the patter of little mice feet. So far so good. No more pellets. No sounds.
It’s quiet outside. Birds singing.
Corrine snores.
The clock says six A.M. I think it runs in my family’s genes to be early risers. I decide to go out before work starts.
Work. We’ve been cleaning the entire camp, getting supplies ready, holding more workshops, playing lots of games. For a camp stressing creative arts, there’s certainly a lot of physical activity. Carl says it “enriches the whole person.”
My body hurts from all the enrichment. My blisters have blisters.
I quietly climb down the ladder, dress, grab my soap, towel, and blow drier. Corrine’s warned me to be silent until she’s had her first cup of coffee.
The door creaks when I open it. I catch it before it slams.
No one else seems to be up.
I’ve got the bathroom to myself. Usually all the females in camp seem to be using it at the same time. It’s as bad as taking a shower after gym.
Finishing up, I go back to the cabin, sneak inside, and put my stuff away.
Corrine’s still snoring.
I didn’t think skinny people snored.
I grab my notebook and pen and go outside again. It’s beginning to get really light.
Two-thirds of the way down the hill, between the cabin area and the main building, there’s a good tree to sit under to write the daily letter to my family. The pool’s toward the left, the fields are on the right. The main building’s down below. I owe four letters. Things are too busy. I can just imagine what it’s like at home. My mother will rush every day, anxiously checking the mail. When no letter arrives from me, tears’ll come to her eyes. At first she’ll imagine the worst. She’ll think I’ve been captured by a band of demon bats or fallen off a mountain. Then she’ll get upset and angry. I’ve really got to make this a good letter to make up for not sending the others.
I write a lot, big, so that it takes up lots of room. It’s hard. I’m not sure what I should say. I want to have some privacy, also there’s not much to really report. Does she want to hear about my blisters, about my crush on Jimmy, about Corrine’s snoring? What do you say about camp to someone who’s not there to get the whole experience?
I do my best, filling up four pages and putting them by my side.
There’s a goat standing right next to me. It starts to eat my letter. Then it takes off down the hill with all of the pages in its mouth.
Someone behind me laughs. “I’ve heard of people having to eat their own words, but that’s ridiculous.”
I turn around and see Ted Chaback, one of the CITs. He’s carrying his guitar.
“I bet that really gets your goat.” He grins.
Oh no, more goat jokes.
Ted sits down next to me. “Relax. We’ll rewrite it. What was it? I’ll help.”
“It’s just a letter to my family. I promised to write every day and haven’t. That animal just ate a week’s worth of news.”
Ted says, “Why don’t you start out with: ‘Dear Family, I’ve just met a wonderful human being and while we’re not planning to elope, I think I’m going to like going out with him. His name’s Ted. You’ll love him.’ ”
I look at Ted. He’s cute, brownish-blond hair, blue-green eyes. He’s been in some of my training groups and we’ve kidded around but never really talked. I know that he’s a senior in high school and from Connecticut.
“I think we better stick to telling them about the cookouts and stuff,” I say. “I’d hate to announce anything prematurely.”
“Give it time.” He grins again.
We write the letter together, each contributing every other line. It doesn’t make much sense, but it’s fun to do. Being with Ted is fun. Usually I’m kind of shy around boys, but he’s easy to get along with.
People are beginning to go down the hill.
The breakfast bell rings.
Ted and I race down. He beats me, by a lot.
I collapse on the grass. “I’m really not in shape for this.”
“I like the shape you’re in.” Ted smiles.
I blush. I’m not used to this.
Jimmy comes up to us. “Ready for the invasion of the campers?”
I nod, still out of breath.
The campers are really arriving today, after lunch.
Jimmy moves on to talk to Ryan Alys, one of the guys on the grounds crew.
I stare at Jimmy.
“One of the smitten, I see,” Ted says.
I look at Ted.
“It happened last year too. At least half the females fall in love with him.”
I blush again.
“You’ll develop better taste soon and see that the only person that Jimmy loves is himself.” Ted raises his eyebrows.
The bell rings again for breakfast, and we go inside.
Corrine and Mark, Ted’s head counselor, are sitting together and we join them.
“Ready? The kids’ll be here soon,” Corrine reminds me.
“Can’t we just keep camp the way it is?” I beg.
She laughs and shakes her head. “The moment of truth, the final camper lists, will be here shortly.”
Barbara comes over to our table, says, “Morning. Bunk assignments. Enjoy your day,” and hands us the cabin rosters.
Mark says, “No problems evident on my list. Can’t wait till the kids get here.”
He looks over Corrine’s shoulder at our list. “You’ve got Ginger Simon? What’s she doing in with the eleven- and twelve-year-olds? Why are you stuck with her?”
“Sandy said she wouldn’t take her again, even if it meant losing her job. You know how Barbara can convince you to try anything. So I said we’d take her, but should be given combat pay.”
I sit there listening. How come no one asked me about taking a problem camper? I guess because I don’t know the kid. “What’s the problem?”
Corrine shrugs. “I’m not sure. I know her parents are divorced and that she’s got a real chip on her shoulder. But she’s a fine artist. Last summer she did some really nasty things, was cruel to a lot of people, and was a general disturbance. Barbara wants to give her another chance though, thinks maybe we can reach Ginger and help her.”
“Barbara’s always involved in causes,” Mark says. “I don’t think this is going to be one of her better choices.”
Ted says, “Let me know if I can help.”
I have this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. How can they doubt that Barbara’s right? Am I wrong to think everything she does is perfect? Maybe I can show them all and be the one person who is able to reach and help Ginger.
I scrape off the burnt parts from my French toast and cover it with syrup. Calories that will go straight to my hips.
Corrine finishes and says, “I’m going out for a quiet walk. It’s probably going to be my last chance of the day. Marcy, I’ll meet you back at the bunk to finish getting ready.” She waves good-bye.
“Smile, Marcy. Ginger is only one twelfth of the cabin. It’ll be all right.” Ted pats me on the arm. “And I’ll be around to give you a hand.”
Mark laughs. “After you finish working with our seven- and eight-year-olds. That’s not going to leave you with much spare time. Although something tells me that you’re turning into a charter member of the Marcy Lewis fan club.”
It’s Ted’s turn to turn pink.
Mark looks at me. “You must have some special power, Marcy. This young man was much admired by many last summer but spent the entire time with the kids and working on his music. I’ve never seen him act like this.”
“Man cannot live by guitar alone,” Ted says and grins at me.
My turn to blush again. “I guess that makes me your pick,” I say. “Guitar pick, get it?”
Everyone groans appreciatively. I guess I’m handling this okay, but I wish I’d brought my brother’s teddy bear, Wolf, with me. I could use it now. I bet Wolf would love to be filled with bug juice.