Camp (21 page)

Uncle Ed smiled when he found my mother and me as we neared the junior camp lawn, where Erin’s father spread blankets for our picnic lunch. “Sonia!” my uncle called, his arms outstretched as he rushed toward us. I wished he would stop acting as if he still wanted my mother. Wasn’t Patsy enough? “Sorry I couldn’t give you a proper greeting at the lake, Sonia. Quite a place I’ve got here, isn’t it?” My mother stiffened in his hug. “And everyone’s having a great time.” Uncle Ed kept talking as my mother pushed away. “Isn’t that so, Amy?” I didn’t answer.

In the distance, Charlie and my father stood by the junior camp tetherball. Charlie followed the game with his head as if watching a Ping-Pong match. I told my mother I would get them, but her raised eyebrows stopped me. She didn’t want to stay with Uncle Ed any more than I did, and she squirmed around the Hollanders as if Erin’s family had an itchy rash. “Excuse me, Ed.” The chill in her voice made me shake. “I need to let Lou know we’re here.”

Erin jumped up as we got close, but Mrs. Hollander held her back. “No, baby. Let’s give Amy a little more time with her mother,” I thought I heard Mrs. Hollander say as I waved to Erin. Mrs. Hollander probably thought I’d been reporting on what Rory had done. Erin’s mom couldn’t know that my mother had decided all the problems were Erin’s fault for sticking close to me, or my fault for not being popular.

“I just wish you’d choose other friends. Like Rory,” my mother said when we wove between blankets and towels spread on the lawn. We skirted the clothed buffet table as we headed for Charlie and my father. “You could do so much better, Amy.”

Nothing I could say would convince my mother she was wrong. But she would see for herself soon enough, I believed. Rory would attack during lunch. I was as sure of it as I was that Charlie would race into my arms when he saw us coming.

My father waved as we approached. Charlie sped toward me until the sound of a dog halted his flight. Not a deep bark like Zeus’s, the Sparbers’ black Lab, but the squealing yap of an itty-bitty thing, as Robin had warned. I ran to my brother and scooped him up. “It’s okay, buddy,” I crooned as I hugged Charlie, while I scanned younger campers and parents heading for picnic places. I didn’t see the dog, though I knew who I’d see where the barking came from. “Hi, Mrs. Becker!” Rory yelled before my father reached us. “All set for lunch?” Robin stood beside her and grinned.

I turned away and hugged Charlie harder. “It’s all right now.” I whispered my promise: “I won’t let them hurt you.”

“Why don’t we invite Rory to join us for lunch?” my mother suggested when my father caught up with us. “Give Erin’s family a little time to themselves.”

“That’s up to Amy. This is her day.” I saw the strain in my father’s smile as he looked at me and Charlie. “What do you say, honey?”

“No. I want to sit with the Hollanders.” Charlie’s arms tightened around me. “Just the Hollanders.”

“Okay then.” My father patted Charlie’s back. “The dog’s not here, son, and it’s time for lunch now. So let go of Amy.”

“No!” Charlie shrieked, not loudly enough to cause a commotion, but forcefully enough so I knew he wouldn’t budge. I carried him to the picnic area, now jammed with families. At first no one seemed to notice the eight-year-old who clung to me. Yet for a moment, I wished my father had heeded my letter and left Charlie home. But all thoughts vanished when I heard snickers behind us, clear as the bell that would open the buffet. I knew who it was: Rory and Robin, celebrating the success of the dog scare.

“I still think we should ask Rory to join us,” my mother said as we headed toward the Hollanders, “since her parents aren’t here.”

“Sonia, please, Sonia. Amy wants to be with Erin. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is she doesn’t give herself a chance to know anyone else. No wonder she doesn’t have friends.” My mother spoke as if I weren’t even there.

“Of course she has friends. You read her letters.” My father turned to me. “And your friends are lucky to have you. Especially Erin. She seems real nice, by the way, and so do her parents.”

“They’re so ordinary,” my mother snapped.

Erin ran over to us. “Hey, Charlie, my friend. Where you been?” She tousled his hair the way I always did, then peeled his arm from my neck and took his hand. Charlie lowered himself and, surrounded by Erin and me, hunkered down at our picnic spot. My father found his place next to Mr. Hollander. My mother positioned herself at the edge of the blanket, her legs tucked to the side like Patsy’s at our ice cream party.

I jumped at the sound of the lunch bell.

“Oh my God!” Erin slapped my knee. “Look who’s serving!”

Charlie’s hands clamped my ankle when I got up to scan the table. Junior counselors and counselors-in-training stood behind platters of fried chicken and baskets filled with rolls. And next to the youngest staff and CITs, Andy and Jed in white aprons.

“Who’s hungry?” Erin teased as she released Charlie’s hands and pulled him to his feet.

“Stop it. Come on,” I said, not wanting my mother to know about Andy.

“What’s the secret, girls?” my father asked. “Someone likes those fellows over there?”

“The kitchen boys are
so
nice, Mr. Becker,” Erin answered.

“Come on. Stop.” I whined my protest, but my father goaded Erin on.

“So which one’s the lucky guy? Or are they both?”

I hung my head.

“That good-lookin’ one on the right,” Erin said, “that’s Andy. And he’s really nice, and he likes Amy a lot.”

“Well, that’s great. Shows he’s got good taste.” My father lifted my chin. “Don’t be embarrassed, honey. Why, I’ll bet he’s a great guy.”

My mother shook her head as she rose. “He’s a kitchen boy, Lou.”

Erin held Charlie’s hand when we headed for the lunch line. She steered us toward Andy and Jed’s end of the buffet table. Mrs. Hollander followed, while Mr. Hollander and my parents trailed behind. “Andy, that’s his name, right? He’s awfully cute,” Erin’s mother whispered.

I took a plate for Charlie and one for myself as we inched along the table. “Hey, Amy.” Andy smiled. “I was hoping I’d see you.” He surveyed the crowd, scouting for Uncle Ed, I was sure.

Jed stabbed a chicken breast. “How b-b-bout this?”

“Thanks. That’s fine for me.” I held out Charlie’s plate.

“And my brother would like a drumstick, if you’ve got one.”

“I d-d-don’t th-think we have any more.”

“I’ll find one,” Andy offered. He dashed to the other end of the table before I could say it wasn’t necessary.

“Holy moly!” Erin’s tap on my shoulder nearly caused me to drop a plate. “He’s crazy about you. Isn’t he great, Mom?” I peeked around for Mrs. Hollander’s answer. And that’s when I saw Uncle Ed. He sidled next to my father on the lunch line. “What’s the hold up here?” Uncle Ed boomed. Then spotting Andy with a plate of chicken legs, Uncle Ed asked, “What did I tell you about staying at your post and keeping the line moving?”

I felt my uncle’s eyes on me as Andy forked two drumsticks onto Charlie’s plate. “Let’s keep moving,” Uncle Ed ordered. “Lots of hungry people here.” Andy looked down when I thanked him.

He’s a kitchen boy, Amy.
I turned, but my mother wasn’t behind me. Yet I heard her voice while I balanced Charlie’s plate and mine.

“So, Ame,” Erin said, as we settled on the blanket ahead of our parents, “didya finally tell your mother about Rory and everything? My mom couldn’t believe your mother didn’t know what’s been happening.”

“I tried, but my mother says it’s
my
fault.”

“
Your
fault? How could it be
your
fault?” Erin twirled a pigtail. “Guess your mother still doesn’t know what’s really going on then.”

Right, I thought.
You don’t know anything, Mom. Nothing.

Chapter 15

What in the World Is Wrong with You?

I
looked for Rory as we sang the Takawanda welcome song. But without standing, I saw only the families around us. I searched some more when Nancy instructed us to rise for the alma mater. Charlie stood with me. Was Rory planning to get him again? I had figured she was going to drift by during lunch, but desserts were already out—cake and cookies and watermelon—and still no Rory. And no dog.

“Ready for a little tennis?” my father asked. “My racquet’s in the car. I’ll go get it.”

“Lou.” My mother nodded toward Charlie.

“He’s fine with the girls.”

“Sure he is,” Erin agreed. “Aren’t you, Charlie? We’re gonna watch Amy play tennis.”

“Amy. Tennis.” Charlie’s voice came as a whisper. I didn’t think anyone else heard him. But Erin had. “Right,” she answered. “Watch Amy play tennis.” She pulled Charlie to his feet. “Watch with us,” Erin urged her parents.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mrs. Hollander said.

Jody zeroed in on my father and me. She stopped to grab tennis balls from the shopping cart, then ushered us onto the middle court. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Becker,” she said. “Your daughter’s a fine player, one of the strongest in camp. And one of the nicest girls too.” Jody tossed me the balls. “Now show your father how your time here’s paying off.”

“Go for it,” Erin called. I turned at her voice. She stood in back of Charlie, his nose against the chain link fence behind the courts. Erin’s parents stood to her side. No sign of anyone with a dog. No sign of my mother. I bounced a ball—once, twice. Why wouldn’t she watch me play?

“Let’s see how good you’ve gotten,” Dad teased.

I began hitting slowly, grooving my strokes as he had taught me. Where was Rory?

I heard Erin’s mother say I was good. “Wait,” Erin told her. “She’s just warming up. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

As if on cue, my father picked up the pace. He slammed a forehand to the baseline. I hit a strong cross-court. “Good shot, honey,” he called. “Let’s see your backhand.”

Erin gave me a thumbs-up when I turned to get a ball. I tickled Charlie’s nose, still pressed to the fence. “Love you, buddy,” I said, then readied myself to hit by bouncing the ball.

“Stalling for time?” My father chuckled.

“Oh, so you’re eager for everyone to see that I’m better than you, Dad?”

Erin laughed at our banter. “Go on, Ame. Show him how good you are.”

The racquet became part of me. I fed off my father’s pace, returning each shot with a bullet of my own. Applause—louder than Erin’s family alone could have given. Campers and parents on the other courts stopped hitting. The strike of the ball. The movement of my feet. That’s all there was.
On your toes, Amy. On your toes.
Jody’s words in my mind kept me light, made me fly. “One of the strongest players in camp,” she had said. “A good bet to win the senior tournament.”

I slammed a backhand down the line. “Great shot!” My father clapped the strings of his racquet.

“Way to go!” Erin’s voice pulled me back into myself. I glanced behind to catch a smile stretch across her face, Charlie still in front of her, her parents to her left. My mother stood next to them now. She left just enough space between her and the Hollanders so no one would think they were together. And on my mother’s other side, Rory and Robin gabbed as if they belonged there. Not an inch between them and my mother.

I took in the crowd fanning out across the fence. No dogs. No barking. Charlie’s fine, I assured myself. Erin will protect him.

“Stalling for time again?” my father kidded.

Rory won’t hurt Charlie now, I decided, shaking off my fear of another attack. He looked so peaceful up against the fence, Erin’s hands gentle on his shoulders.
Show Mom how good you’ve gotten
, I told myself.
Show her you’re special. Hit the ball, Amy. Smack it hard.

I whammed a forehand down the center, a backhand to the corner. Yet despite my shots, the audience thinned. Campers pulled their parents away until not one spectator remained to Erin and Charlie’s right.

I waited a moment to see if my mother would stay. Though she didn’t move from her position near the Hollanders, I knew she had no interest in watching me. My mother wouldn’t care that I was one of the best players in camp. What good was tennis if I wasn’t friendly enough or pretty enough or popular enough? Yet I wanted her to hear the “Great shot!” and “What a player!” I wanted her to know that some people thought I was good enough at something.