“Pictures, please,” she says.
I see Talia glare at her. Is she mad that Lis is not being a bitch to me?
I pull up a selfie that we took last night and show them. His brown eyes are squinting as he smiles at the camera. Our cheeks are pressed against each other.
“OMG, you guys are adorable together. He’s so cute,” Lis says.
“He’s cute,” Talia concedes, but her arms are still crossed.
“Yes,” I say, smiling. “He is.”
“Did you print any out?” Lis asks. “You should hang them by your bed.”
“I forgot to,” I say, wishing I were the type of girl who remembered to do stuff like that. “But he promised to send me postcards. I’ll hang those.”
Eli promised a postcard from every stop. And we are still going to talk all the time. And text. As much as we can.
“So you used to go here?” Talia asks, moving into her section of the room. Lis follows behind her.
“Um. Yeah. Just for one year.” I sit down on my mattress. It sags.
“Wait, how old are you?” Lis asks. “One year older than me?”
“Nineteen. Yeah. I’m at NYU now,” I add, trying to distract her. Nickname? What nickname? Look over there, a squirrel! “Where are you two going next year?”
“I didn’t get in anywhere good, so I’m taking the year off to work at my mom’s office—she’s in real estate—and then I’m going to reapply. But Talia’s going to Penn. She’s a smarty pants. Do you like NYU?”
“I love it,” I say. I love my classes. I love my boyfriend. I love my friends. New York has become home. I look around the room. “I guess I should make my bed. What are we supposed to be doing now exactly?”
“It’s Dinner Washup,” Talia says. “So, nothing. Then after dinner we have a bonfire. You missed most of the unpacking.”
“The kids’ stuff is already here?” I ask.
“Yeah, we got their duffels on Thursday.”
“Oh yeah. I remember that. But the staff unpacks everything for them?”
“Just for the juniors,” Talia says. “You don’t want them unpacking themselves; they’re a mess. They can barely remember to brush their teeth.”
“You should show her the rest of the cabin,” Lis says, biting her thumbnail again.
“I was in Bunk Six when I was a kid,” I say. “But my memory is foggy.”
“Come on,” Talia says. She pushes through the white sheet, disappearing into the main hallway.
The cabin is divided in half with a wall down the middle: 6A on one side, 6B on the other. Both sides have beds in them and windows on the outside wall. I follow her to the left.
Four of the eight 6A beds are made. Their mattresses are all decked out in colorful comforters and little welcome mats by their beds. Most of them are Disney. Elsa. Anna. Moana. I’m hoping Shira has a She-Ra: Princess of Power comforter, but she doesn’t. She went Star Wars. I love Star Wars, so I give her a mental thumbs-up anyway.
“Oh, wow,” I say to Talia. “You did so much!”
“Yeah,” she says. “I did.”
I hadn’t known that coming late would mean more work for my co. I just thought I’d be skipping the get-to-know-you games.
So that’s why she’s being such a bitch to me. She hasn’t heard anything about me as a camper, she’s just pissed. She had to unpack all by herself. I feel like a jerk. I am a jerk. Here I am wanting to impress everyone, and I’m making enemies already.
“I am so sorry,” I say, my cheeks burning. “Seriously. I completely forgot that we had to unpack the kids. And you did them all! How can I make it up to you?”
Her face softens. “It’s okay. There are still two kids left.”
“I’ll do them now. You go relax! Take a nap or something. Or a shower.”
Talia raises an eyebrow. “I look that great, huh?”
I flush. “Oh, I just mean—”
“Kidding. I know I look like shit. After a day of camp my hair has puffed up. But anyway, we have more unpacking time tomorrow. After swim tests. I’ll take a nap then. And you can make the chore wheel.”
I shudder. Swim tests. As a camper I came up with every excuse possible to avoid going in the water. Headache. Earache. Not because of swimming—I’m a good swimmer—but because I knew I looked different from the other girls in my bathing suit, and during the test, all eyes would be on me.
“I forgot about swim tests,” I say.
“Swimming is the worst. But the counselor tests are in the pool, at least. Come on,” she says, and leads me into the cubby room next. It’s a windowless room with a door out the back. Almost all the wooden cubbies are filled with tiny clothes, perfectly folded into squares.
“You did an amazing job,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says, looking pleased. “Lis and I had the nine-year-olds last year, but I remember some of these kids from Bunk Three. Prague is adorable. She’s a riot. Seriously cute. I don’t know Emma C., it’s her first year, but her cousin is here and Emma is supposedly a super athlete. She’s here on scholarship. Her dad died a few years ago and they had no insurance and she applied and the camp took her for free. Emma F. is new too, but her brother is a senior. She’s adopted, he isn’t. Fancy was here last year and is a total witch. Mean girl in the making. Just look at her clothes.” She points to the cubby across from us. “She brought Dolce and Gabbana T-shirts. To camp! She’s eight!”
“Her name is Fancy?” I ask.
“It’s really Francie. But come on. That was such an easy nickname.”
I am not giving any kid a nickname.
“Who brings Dolce and Gabbana T-shirts to camp? They’ll be covered in blue paint and chocolate pudding in four days max.”
I laugh.
“You laugh now, but these kids are gross.” She cracks a smile, and I see she has two dimples. She has a perfectly round face. Like a doll.
“The bathroom is right there?” I ask, pointing to the next room over.
“Yeah,” she says. “Warning, we got the teeny-tiny kid toilets. Ugh, I wish they’d given me my kids from last year. Or any inters. Or even seniors. Any seniors. Juniors are the worst.”
There are three stalls on one side of the room, and two sinks and two mirrors on the other. Counselors share with the kids.
“Be right back,” I say.
The stall is small. And the toilet is definitely lower than a regular toilet. I feel a bit like Snow White.
There are names all over the back of the bathroom wall from previous years.
CS + TH forever.
Kayla Novak was here but now she’s gone.
She left her name to carry on.
Those who knew her knew her well.
Those who didn’t can go to hell!
Lis Katzenberg was here!
Lis! I’m not sure if Lis already wrote her name on the first day of pre-camp or if it’s from last year.
I flush and head to the sink. Talia is already gone. I turn on the hot water handle and feel the shock of cold. Oh, right, there is no hot water, only cold. How had I forgotten about that too?
I head back to the staff room and step inside. Lis and Talia are stripping off their clothes.