FOUR

“ARIANNA NODBERG!” I HEAR SOMEONE yell.

I look up from where I’m sitting on the bunk porch, and there’s Kaylan, running up the hill as fast as she possibly can.

It feels so funny to see her here, like when you run into your teacher at the grocery store. It’s not where they belong, even though you obviously know they don’t live in the classroom.

“Kaylan!” I hop up off the chair and run to greet her, and when we meet, we freeze together in an as-tight-as-possible hug.

“This place is amazing,” Kaylan says when we finally pull away from the hug. “The pool is awesome, the lake is beautiful, and Adirondack chairs everywhere—I feel like we’re at a resort!” She laughs. “Can I convert to Judaism and come here next summer?”

“Um.” I giggle. “I think that’s kind of an intense thing to decide right now, so can we put it on hold?”

“Def,” she says. “Pos for the next list? Just kidding! Come on, I want to see your bunk. Your parents and Gemma got stuck talking to someone from the temple back by the dining hall, but they said they’ll be right up. And then someone guided me to the section of camp for your age group, and I figured I’d find you.”

“Guess my family really misses me.” I roll my eyes as we walk back to my bunk. “Oh well. But anyway, I’m happy to have alone time with you!”

“Me too. Me too.” She stops for a second and bends down to tie her shoelace. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you at home. It’s just not the same without you.”

“I can imagine,” I say. “But I only have two more weeks here, which is so, so, so, so sad, even though I’ll be excited to be home with you.”

Kaylan makes a frowny face and then hugs me again. “We’ll have fun at home. Honestly, the lunch table girls have been, like, super cool this summer. Plus, we have our list to keep us busy.”

“That’s true,” I say as we walk into the bunk. I don’t think I really want to hear about what’s been going on at home. When I’m at camp, home doesn’t really exist in my mind. I mean, I know it’s there, and I miss everyone, but I’m not there, and that’s okay. “So . . . . this is bunk nineteen. The counselors’ beds are up here. Aren’t their areas so awesome?”

Kaylan looks around. “Their areas?”

“Yeah, like their single beds, and their sideways cubbies, and they can put all the stuff on top—like their lotions and picture frames and stuff. It’s just so cool.”

Kaylan looks at me like I might be slowly losing my mind. “Um, it just looks like an old wooden cubby to me.”

“It’s a camp thing, I guess. Maybe you have to really be at camp to understand.”

“Ouch.” She bites her lip. “JK, whatevs.”

I crinkle an eyebrow. Did I offend her by that comment? I may have to adjust to being around Kaylan and her intense ways again.

“And my bed’s over here.” I lead her down the middle aisle of the bunk. “I felt lucky they assigned me the top bunk bed, and the one closest to the bathroom. You know me and needing to pee in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, girl, I know.”

“Oh my God, is this Kaylan?” we hear someone shriek from the bathroom.

Alice. Of course it’s Alice. Her shriek is unmistakable.

“Yes it is,” Kaylan sings, and curtsies like she’s famous and she knows everyone here has been waiting to meet her, which is kind of true, but I don’t want to let it go to her head.

“Hi-i-i-i,” Alice sings after drying her hands on a towel hanging from the rafters. “I’m Alice, and can I just say that I’ve been coming to this camp for four summers and I’ve loved every second, but then Arianna came, and it’s like even better?”

Kaylan nods and smiles. “You can say it. Because it’s true! Because Arianna is awesome. My BFFFFFFFFFFF.” Kaylan laughs, and then Alice does too.

“You’re hilarious,” Alice says. “I knew you would be. Of course Arianna would have a hilarious BFF. And also she told me you’re really into comedy.”

Kaylan rolls her lips together and looks over at me, like she’s waiting for me to say something.

“Girls, girls,” I start. “I’m awesome. You both know it. I’m a gift.”

A second later, Alice’s family walks in.

“Alice Judith Kalman,” we hear someone say.

And then Alice mouths, “My mom,” with a casual eye roll.

Of course my parents have found some random people to talk to and haven’t even made it to the bunk yet. I wonder if they’ll even make it here before visiting day is over.

When Alice and her family leave the bunk, Kaylan whispers, “I thought this was a Jewish camp?”

“It is. Why?”

Kaylan looks around. “Alice is black, so . . .”

“There can be black Jews,” I whisper-explain. “But anyway, Alice was adopted. She was born in Tennessee, and then her parents went to pick her up when she was, like, a few hours old. She told us all about it; she’s really into the story.”

“Oh. Interesting.” Kaylan thinks about that for a second. “Sooo . . . before your parents get here,” she whispers again, “you need to have a talk with them about your bat mitzvah. Like, ASAP.”

“What? Why?” My stomach drops. We put the tell a boy how we really feel thing on the list, but I think we maybe should’ve put tell a BFF how we really feel because Kaylan’s intensity is out of control at the moment. Especially since I’m a bit out of practice dealing with it.

“Can we sit on your bed?” she asks. “I’m super jelly that you’re on a top bunk bed.”

“Sure.” I shrug and start climbing the little ladder on the side. “But tell me what you’re talking about, like fast. I feel like my parents will be here any second.”

“Okay. They were discussing it in the car,” she starts as soon as we’re up there. “Your mom has all these plans, and they’re cool. But”—she looks toward the door to see if they’re coming in—“I’m not sure they’re exactly what you want. And it’s your day.”

“It’s okay. I can deal with whatever it is.” I gently tap her knee. “Just tell me.”

“Okay! A band instead of a DJ, super adult-y passed hors d’oeuvres like lettuce wraps, something with caviar, ewwww.” She makes a face. “A whole station of carved meats? And she wants hot-pink tablecloths! You don’t even like pink! You need to talk to her about that.”

“Seriously?” I clench my teeth. All of a sudden, I feel a rush of gratitude for Kaylan—that she’s here, and she’s telling me all of this so I can put an end to the pink, and possibly the caviar. Maybe her intensity is good in situations like this one.

“Yes. And also, she wants, like, Israeli dancing at the party! How crazy?” she asks me. “You don’t want that, do you?”

I laugh a little. “Kinda yeah, to be honest. We do Israeli dancing on Friday nights here, and it’s awesome.”

Kaylan looks perplexed. “Okay, but you want regular dancing, too, right? Like current songs and stuff, and games, like Ashley Feldman had at hers?”

“I do, yeah.” I smile. I have to admit—I’m getting excited thinking about the fabulous party I’m going to have. “Israeli dancing is cool, though. For real.”

“Aren’t you going to be embarrassed to have Israeli dancing? Like for the kids at school?” Kaylan asks. “I can’t imagine the lunch table girls doing Israeli dancing.”

“Maybe they’ll think it’s cool, too?”

“But wait a second—”

“Ariiiiiiiiiii.” We hear Gemma singing right then, and I’m grateful for the interruption. I do need to get back to that pink-tablecloth conversation, though. I am most definitely not a pink person.

I hop down from my bed and my feet make the loudest thud against the wooden floor. “Gemmaaaaaa,” I sing back, smiling as wide as possible as soon as I see her.

I run over and hug her, and I swear I’ve never loved her as much as I do right now. I guess they’re right (whoever they are) when they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

My heart is very, very fond of my little sis right now.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Gemma says. “It’s so boring without you. And Mom and Dad keep making flounder for dinner because they think I like it, even though I’ve told them a billion times I most definitely do not like it!”

“Flounder, guys, really?” I roll my eyes at my parents as soon as they walk into the bunk. “You’re torturing your poor daughter with flounder, and I’m not even there to commiserate!”

“Oh, Ari, come here,” my mom says. She pulls me into a hug, and the whole world smells like her fruity perfume. It makes me miss her even though she’s standing right here. I hadn’t really missed her that much, but now that she’s near me, I kind of realize that maybe I have.

I never knew emotions could be so tricky and confusing.

We’re still in the hug when my mom says, “We have so much to discuss about your bat mitzvah. We need to discuss our plans with the caterer, the song list for the band. I hope you can decide which logo you want for the hoodies. And obviously, we need to touch base about how much you’ve been practicing for the service, the cantor called and—”

“Mom. Chill.” I look up and pull out of the hug. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Hey! My turn!” My dad puts an arm around me and an arm around my mom, and we all group-hug for a minute. Then Gemma pushes her way through and starts dancing in the middle of our hug.

I get this instant sticky guilt feeling that Kaylan’s not part of our family group hug and that her family isn’t together anymore.

“Come here, Kay, join the hug!”

She runs over and I let her in, and we stay that way for a second but then I feel completely crazy that we’re all just standing in the middle of the bunk hugging.

“Come on, guys, can we please go?” I say. “We only have a few hours, and you promised me real food!”

“Real food?” my dad asks. “What does that mean?”

“Anything other than camp food!” I squeal. “Let’s go!”