I nodded. I remembered Botts, aka Daniel Bottsman. Botts was short, funny, red-haired, and freckled. He had played on the twelve-and-under softball team with me. I’d hung out with him a lot that summer, actually. We’d been friends. The girls in my bunk had been horrible, Danish was right about that. So I’d spent a lot of time with the softball team. Botts included.
“He’s exactly the same. Still a sweetie. He’s our youngest head staff member, but he’s great with the kids and started going when he was six. You’ll actually know a lot of people. Priya Singh is head of seniors; you remember her, don’t you? She was a year ahead of you. Josh Gold is head counselor. Jill Wiseman is head of CITs. They met at camp and now they’re married! Marissa Levkoff, who happens to be my ex, is head of waterfront. Don’t worry, it’s not awkward. Anyway, you would be so perfect. Consider this an official job offer. You’ll make about two grand, which I know is less than you’d make working in the city, but it includes all food and lodging! And it’s only six and a half weeks including pre-camp! And we’ll have a great time. Camp as a counselor is way more fun than camp as a camper, promise. So will you come? Say yes! This is my stop.”
I held on to the pole. Should I? If I didn’t take it, I would probably have to go home for the summer. And I was not looking forward to listening to my parents’ constant bickering.
And I may have been a loser as a camper, but I knew I could be a good counselor. No, a great counselor. I could make sure the kids in my bunk had an incredible summer. The summer of their dreams! No one would call my campers horrible nicknames.
And I hadn’t hated everything about Blue Springs.
I loved the lake, the endless stars, color war.
I just hated Zoe Buckman and her minions. I had nightmares about them occasionally, even as a college student, which was ridiculous since so much time had passed. Why couldn’t I get over it already?
But Zoe was gone. Gone and not coming back.
I could return to camp and like it. Maybe I could even love it! I could erase the bad memories! And it would even look good on my résumé to have hands-on experience with kids.
What else was I going to do all summer?
How often did a job bump into you on the 6 train? If this wasn’t serendipity, I didn’t know what was.
The train pulled to a halt. We both lunged forward and then back. “Well?” she asked.
I smiled at her. “I’m in.”
Tiny rocks crunch under my feet as I walk down the road into camp.
Two girls, teenagers, are huddled together talking. Both are wearing shorts and T-shirts. I’m wearing a black cotton dress and my J.Crew ballet flats. I can see that ballet flats were a mistake. They are mesh, and the holes are already filled with camp dust.
The girls smile at me, and I smile back, feeling out of sorts. I’m not sure if I should introduce myself or not, so I don’t.
I’m off to a flying start.
I take out my cell phone to text Eli and tell him I arrived. He was worried I’d get lost, but I knew Google Maps would do its job.
I type: Made it! Have only been attacked by three bears so far, but otherwise all good.
I wait for the text to send. When nothing happens, I study the bars. No service. Dead zone. Super. I was told that counselors, unlike campers, are allowed to have phones, as long as we don’t use them in front of the kids. I assumed that meant that using them would be an option.
“Rosenspan!” I hear. My head snaps up.
It’s Botts! Softball team Botts! Botts who is now head of the inter section.
“Hey, stranger,” I say, smiling. He’d always called me by my last name. Never by my terrible nickname. He’s walking with another guy who looks familiar.
Botts looks older. His shoulders have filled out. But I’m looking into the same eyes I did when I was eleven. “So the rumors are true!” he says, light brown eyes shining. “You’re back! You missed us, didn’t you?”
“Only you,” I say. “Did you ever leave, or have you been here since the last time I saw you?”
“I haven’t moved. I’ve been standing in this exact spot for eight years.”
“It’s good to see you,” I say, and I mean it.
He pulls me into a hug. “I wondered what happened to you. It’s great you’re back.” He squeezes my shoulders. “And you’re all grown up.”
I am all grown up. I am no longer the awkward eleven-year-old I used to be, trying to hide my hips, boobs, and braces. I am now happy to have these boobs and hips—and my perfect teeth, thank you very much. And I’m not just a hick from Rhode Island anymore. I live in New York City. In the Village! I get my haircut in Soho. I am glamorous. I am cool. I am freaking awesome, so go to hell, Zoe Buckman.
“You know Gav, right?” Botts asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. No, wait. I do know him. I definitely know him. Gav is Gavin Lawblau.
No way.
Tall, lean, clear skin. Dark hair. Black T-shirt, blue board shorts. He’s wearing dark sunglasses. He was the cool guy when we were eleven, and it seems like he’s still the cool guy now.
“I think I remember you,” I lie, but my cheeks flush. I hope he doesn’t remember me.
“You look kind of familiar, too,” he says, a lazy smile on his face. “What section are you in?”
“Juniors.”
“Me too,” he says. “But I’m a specialist. I sleep in Bunk Five with the Junior boys, but I teach sailing.”
“The most psychotic kids at camp,” Botts says.
“They are totally psychotic. Last year I found one sleeping on the roof. And another shit into a taco.”
“Oh my God! That is disgusting,” I say, laughing. “Please tell me no one ate it.”
Now he laughs. “No, the smell gave it away.”
I make a face, hoping that it’s still a cute face.
“I believe you’re Bunk Six, and your co-counselor is Talia?” Botts asks.
“I guess. Was she here when I was here?” I ask quickly. I hope not. The fewer old faces the better. Less people who might remember my nickname.
“No, she started as a senior. And Janelle is new this year. But Lis was here when you were.”
Lis. I search my brain for a flutter of recognition. Nothing. “Um, great?”
“Can’t wait to catch up later, but we’re heading to the office. Do you remember where you’re going?” Botts asks.
“I do,” I say, adjusting my backpack. “I guess they switched Bunk Six from inters to juniors?”
He nods. “We did. Helps to have the little kids closer to the flagpole.”
A loud voice comes over the loudspeaker. It’s Eric the office guy. “Attention, all counselors. Attention, all counselors. It is now the beginning of Dinner Washup. Please go . . . um . . . please go . . . please go . . . wash up? Thanks.” Then we hear a loud crash. And then, “Oops.”
Botts looks up at the sky. “Am I imagining it, or does Eric sound high?”
Gavin nods. “He definitely sounds confused. He sleeps in my bunk, and I’m pretty sure I heard him wandering around the cabin in the middle of the night.”
Botts rolls his eyes. “He better not be high. Last year we found a huge duffel bag of amphetamines under the office girl’s bed. I do not have the strength to deal with that again.”