Five Summers (10 page)

SKYLAR PULLED THE COVERS UP OVER HER HEAD. It had been a long time since she’d been in one of the bunk beds—now she was used to having her own queen-sized counselor’s nest—and her five-foot ten-inch frame felt comically large stretched out on the little twin mattress. She pressed her hands up against the low beams of the ceiling, creating a one-person blanket fort, and the sun shone through the sheets in hazy orange squares. They’d just come back from dinner, and Skylar was feeling oddly jealous. How had Adam and Emma ended up at dinner together? Why were they both suddenly acting like she wasn’t even there?

Crushes, Skylar knew, were called crushes for a reason. She still got sad when she thought about the awful things Zeke Tanner had said to her on the shore the last night of camp. But aside from him—and now, Adam—Skylar had always been the crushee, not the crusher. Not that she never liked anyone—it was just that they always liked her back more. But as she’d said in her embarrassing display during never have I ever, she had never, to her knowledge, truly been loved. Then again, she’d never loved anyone either. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance.

“Crap! Is it supposed to rain?” Maddie leaped up from the bottom bunk, where she’d been tweezing her eyebrows, and stuck her arm out the open door.

“Nah, it’ll blow over,” Jo said. “It might be a little cold, though, so bring sweatshirts.”

“What you see is what I got.” Maddie spun like a runway model and gestured to her tank top and thin cotton capris. “Thank you, Southwest Airlines!”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” Emma said, tossing Maddie a denim jacket.

“I have a bolero if that’s more your style,” Sunny Sherman chirped from across the cabin. Skylar, Jo, Emma, and Maddie exchanged eye rolls—no small feat from four separate bunks.

“Seriously, you couldn’t pull strings to get us our own place?” Maddie said to Jo through clenched teeth. Skylar snorted into her pillow.

Jo put a finger to her lips. “It was this or twenty-two-year-olds,” she whispered.

Emma made a face. “God, I hope I have better things to do when I’m twenty-two than go to a camp reunion.”

“Hey!” Jo said. “Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry, I just mean—we’ll be in college. We’ll be able to live on our own, go wherever we want . . .”

“And drink!” Maddie piped up.

“Right, and drink!” Emma said. “So why would we want to hang out someplace where booze is forbidden and everyone else is underage?”

“Hold that thought,” Skylar said. She had an excellent idea to get the evening back on track. She swung her legs over the side of her bunk, jumped down, and strolled casually across the room. “Hey, girls,” she said conspiratorially as she approached the other set of beds. Sunny and Kerry looked up from the
Us Weekly
they were paging through. Aileen put down her book on colonic therapy, and Jess turned down the volume on the game she was playing on her phone. Skylar lowered her voice to a whisper and leaned in. “So, some of the guys went into town earlier on a beer run. I can’t go right now because of Jo”—she made a face and the girls nodded sympathetically—“but you guys should totally head down to the shore early. I don’t know about you, but I can’t be sober for the sing-along or I might die of shame.”

Sunny nodded. “Totally,” she said. “Want me to grab something for you? I can keep it in my purse.” Sunny carried one of those enormous leather satchels that looked like Mary Poppins’s carpet bag but which probably cost more than some people’s cars. Skylar wasn’t even sure that someone actually
was
down at the shore manning the stash, but, in the words of her tenth grade drama teacher, she committed to the scene.

“Yeah, one of those light beers, the sixty-four-calorie ones.” She flashed an impish grin. “Don’t have too much fun without me!” She turned and crossed back to her own side, and the others watched gleefully as the Sunny Sherman section of the cabin cleared out.

“Slow clap, Sky,” Maddie marveled. “That was beautiful.”

“What did you say?” Jo asked excitedly. “Please tell me you sent them to the HoJos down the road.”

“I wish,” Skylar said. “But they should be occupied for a while. And now that they’re gone, we can safely reminisce without the threat of judgment.” She dug in her trunk and fished out the Camp Nedoba yearbook. It wasn’t technically a yearbook, just a stapled sheaf of photocopied collages Mack put together, but campers traded and signed them at the end of the summer, just like at school.

“Oh man, I forgot about those!” Emma said, taking the yearbook from Skylar and examining the cover, which was a group shot of the entire Camp Nedoba population. Gus took it every year by standing on the roof of the barn.

“There we are!” Maddie cried, pointing to a row of tiny faces near the back.

“Ha!” Jo said, leaning in. “Look how short I was.”

“Look at my hair,” Emma said. “Why didn’t anyone tell me it looked like that?”

“Because we hate you,” Skylar joked. She looked at Emma’s shiny grown-up mane and flattering fitted clothes, thinking of all the times she’d shown Emma how to flat-iron her hair and coordinate her outfits. Of course she didn’t want Emma to look
bad
, but had she unwittingly created a monster?

“Look!” Emma said. “I wrote you something.” She squinted at the tiny print. “Dearest Sky,” she read, “I am going to miss you so much! It’s our last entrance! Leading songs, making s’mores, breaking hearts. So much to say, so little time. Wish me luck tonight. Summer of No Excuses!! Haha. :) Can’t wait to be a CIT with you, M & J next summer. JEMS ’til the end. Love, Emma.” She looked up with a smirk. “Well, I was always a wordsmith.”

Skylar studied Emma’s face for signs of Adam-related pain. Clearly, the message had been written the morning before the end-of-camp bonfire.

“Let me see,” Jo said, reaching for the yearbook. She paged through it, stopping short when she got to a photo of Nate and Adam standing on the basketball court with their arms around each other. “Oh wow,” Jo said. “Nate
was
big.” Adam looked even scrawnier next to his round friend. He was smiling his lopsided smile and winking. So typical, Skylar thought. Adam was even capable of flirting from a grainy photocopy. Too late, Skylar noticed that Adam had scrawled a message in sloppy block print next to his own face.

“Hey S,” Jo read. “Been cool getting to know you more this year. Stay beautiful, Adam. P.S. You’re not flat anymore and I’m sure you need a bra. LOL Don’t hit me
.
”

“What?!” Maddie laughed.

“Oh,” Skylar said, “remember that time he told the whole cafeteria—”

“No, I meant the ‘stay beautiful’ sign-off. Who says that?”

“Adam does,” Emma sighed. “To some people, anyway. To me, I think he wrote ‘Keep being awesome.’” She frowned and looked down at her hands. There it was, Skylar thought. Proof positive that Emma wasn’t over Adam.

“Wait, who wrote this?” Jo asked. “You are an artwork. A Botticelli beauty. A sculptor’s muse. Mine
.
” Skylar covered her hands with her face and groaned with shame. Why hadn’t she read the yearbook before parading it around?

“That is creepy as hell,” Maddie said.

“It was Zeke,” Skylar said.

“It sounds like a ransom note,” Emma said.

“It was a haiku. That’s why it’s so short.”

“Still,” Maddie said. “Yikes.”

It made Skylar feel a little better to realize that Zeke had in fact been a pretentious idiot, but something about the words he’d chosen for his poem really rubbed her the wrong way. Did all guys think she was just some object to be looked at, like a piece of art? To be possessed? “Mine?” And Adam had written “Stay beautiful,” like it was some kind of command, like if she didn’t have her looks she would have nothing. Suddenly Skylar felt like crying.

“This is just depressing me,” she said, putting the yearbook back in the trunk. Her attempt to lighten up the afternoon had been a colossal failure. She felt dangerously close to cracking.

“On the bright side, at least you know guys like you,” Jo said, lifting her mattress and plucking out a Charleston Chew lodged in the rusty springs.

“Yeah,” Skylar sighed. “Whoop-de-effing-do.” She took the proffered candy gratefully and bit off a huge chunk, wishing it was one of the cold ones Mack used to keep in the deep freeze for particularly hot days. The brittle snap of frozen nougat against her teeth was something she would always associate with her happiest memories.

“I’m serious,” Jo said. “All the guys here treat me like I have a penis.”

Skylar looked at Emma and Maddie and they burst into laughter simultaneously.

“It’s not funny!” Jo said, even though she was laughing, too. “I’m a seventeen-year-old nun.”

“But I thought you hated the boy talk,” Maddie said.

“Kind of,” Jo said. “But I don’t hate the boys. I think about them just like you guys.”

“Jo
hannah
! It’s like I don’t even
know
you anymore!” Maddie cried dramatically. “Don’t tell me you watch
The Bachelor
. Or, actually, do tell me, because I need someone to discuss the final rose ceremony with.”

“I might be able to help you out with that,” Emma said, shyly raising her hand.

Now it was Skylar’s turn to be shocked. She never tried to dish about dumb pop culture with Emma because she figured she’d roll her eyes and go back to marking up the pages of
Anna Karenina
or whatever important book she was reading for extra credit. Maybe she was guilty of pigeonholing people, too.

“But how do you fit it in with all of your work?” she asked.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Emma said. “Also, Hulu.”

Maddie and Emma launched into an analysis of that season’s contestants—who was there “for the right reasons,” who might be mentally unstable, and whether “pharmaceutical sales” was a legitimate career or just code for television prostitute—as Jo shared more of her candy stash with Skylar, and the combination of the sugar and the laughter acted like a tonic. In fact, Skylar was just starting to feel hopeful about reunion again when she heard the soft knock on the wood and turned to see Adam standing in the doorway.

She froze. Was he looking for a pre-bonfire booty call? Even though she was jonesing for his attention, the last thing she needed right now was for him to say something that would expose her secret to Emma.

Adam flashed his easy smile. “I hope I’m interrupting something,” he said.

“Just girl stuff,” Maddie said. “You know: flowers, unicorns, tampons.” Adam laughed.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your vagina monologues in a second. I was just stopping by to ask if I could borrow someone for a walk,” he said.

He braced his hands on the door frame and leaned in, blocking the light so that the setting sun hovered behind his head like a halo. He looked both angelic and predatory, Skylar thought. He was probably a little bit of both. She felt a shiver of longing. How had she let things get so out of hand? Skylar wracked her brain for what she could say to Emma that would make Adam’s visit seem innocent.

But when she looked up, she realized she didn’t have to say anything. Adam was looking right past her. His smile was for someone else.

“I’d love to,” Emma said, “but we’re all going to the bonfire together.” Skylar knew she was the only one who could see the corners of Emma’s smile turning down ever so slightly.

“It’s fine,” Skylar heard herself say through the dizzying hum of blood suddenly flooding her head. “You should go.”

“Really?” Emma could barely hide her delight.

“We’ll meet you there,” Maddie said. “Right, Jo?”

Jo caught a Skittle in her mouth and shrugged.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Adam said as Emma slipped into her canvas flats and joined him in the doorway.

“Bonfire starts at seven sharp!” Jo called after them.

“See?” she said to Skylar and Maddie. “I
knew
he was going to be a problem.” She tossed back another handful of Skittles, grumbling, “No drama my ass.”

Skylar climbed back up onto her bunk and buried her face in her pillow. She felt like crying again, but she didn’t know how she could explain it to the others. She’d spent so much time worrying about hurting Emma that she never considered she might get hurt in the process.

“HOLD
STILL
!”

Emma gritted her teeth as Skylar dragged the brush through her wet, tangled hair.

“OW!”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry,” Skylar said, lisping a little from the bobby pins she was holding in her mouth. “But I promise it’ll be worth it.” She patted Emma’s shoulder. “Now, head down.”

Emma stared at the tile floor of the girls’ bathroom. It was the only building at camp that had a full-length mirror, and in addition to torturing her scalp, Skylar had brought along a bag full of outfits she was going to force Emma to model. “Remind me again why I can’t just have a ponytail?” she asked.

“Because you have a ponytail every single day, and this is the only dance all session and you need to look like you’re trying.”

“Trying to
what
?” Emma lifted her head and Skylar pushed it back down, working on a snarl at the nape of her neck.

“Trying to look good! I mean, no offense, Em, but you act like you’re still ten years old. You don’t pluck your eyebrows, you don’t shave your legs—”

“That hair is
blond
,” Emma protested.

“—you don’t paint your toenails, you never wear your hair down or wear skirts, and you sometimes still wear your retainer
during the day
.”

“My orthodontist says I have to,” Emma said helplessly.

“Well, he’s not trying to get someone to kiss him.” Skylar put her hand on Emma’s chin and tilted her face up to the mirror. “I would never have gotten a boyfriend last year if I wore my glasses to school.”

Skylar had not stopped talking about her boyfriend, Cole, since she’d arrived at camp. He was fifteen, but in the pictures she’d taped up inside her trunk, he looked even older.

“See?” she said. She had brushed out Emma’s hair and pinned the sides back. “This looks like you’re trying, but not too hard. It’s very girl next door.”

Emma examined her reflection. “I guess so,” she said. “But if I’m the girl next door, what are you?”

Skylar smiled at herself in the mirror. She wore a loose, white, off-the-shoulder peasant blouse and a long, gauzy yellow skirt. A silver and turquoise necklace hung halfway down her chest, along with her tangled blond waves. She’d borrowed feathered earrings from their counselor, Sasha. “I’m boho,” Skylar said proudly.

“You know that those letters rearranged spell
hobo
, right?” Emma teased.

“Hey, don’t be jealous just because you can’t pull it off.” Skylar brushed her bangs out of her face.

“I’ll never be the third Olsen twin,” Emma sighed.

“Not with that attitude,” Skylar said. “Now, let’s pick your outfit.”

Emma watched as Skylar draped out maxi skirts and halter tops over the closed bathroom stall doors. She felt totally fine in her T-shirt and jeans, but she knew Skylar would make her change into something tighter, something that Emma would spend all night self-consciously adjusting.

“I know you’re trying to help,” Emma said. “But . . . isn’t the whole point that he’s supposed to like me the way I am?”

“You’re still going to be the way you are, just better,” Skylar said. “Try these.” She shoved a handful of dresses at Emma and ushered her into a stall.

The barn was set up the same way it had been for every dance of every summer—folding tables pushed up against the far wall with plates of knock-off Oreos and Chips Ahoy!; pitchers of water and weak lemonade floating with tiny, amoebic swirls of concentrate; and white Christmas lights Gus had strung from the rafters, which reflected onto the polished wood floor in constellations of egg-shaped orbs. Mack’s mix tape—which Jo swore was actually a
tape
, as in cassette tape—flowed out of two big box speakers set up against the northern wall, under the loft. The mix was always the same, and there were never any Billboard Hot 100 hits. It started off with the Beatles, moved on to Motown, and then took a strange Simon & Garfunkel detour (Emma’s dad would have been in heaven) before ending with a slow dance to “In the Still of the Night.” That song was the reason Skylar made her dress up. Well, Adam Loring was the reason. But the point was to bring him, the song, and Emma together at the same time.

Emma looked down at the maroon batik maxi dress Skylar had insisted made her look like “a gypsy goddess.” It bunched around her (still absent) chest and drooped down to the floor, giving her the approximate shape of a deflated toadstool.

“I feel awkward,” she whispered, not budging from the door frame.

“You look fine,” Maddie said unconvincingly.

“You have to trust me,” Skylar insisted, adjusting the straps and tucking in the tag. “I know it’s not your normal look, but sometimes getting out of your style comfort zone is the only way to get a guy’s attention.”

“Did you read that in a magazine or something?” Jo scoffed. She was wearing the same camp T-shirt, track pants, and running shoes she’d had on all day . . . although something was different. Her eyelashes looked darker and thicker than usual. Emma would have asked if she was wearing mascara if she didn’t know Jo so well. Jo would have sooner picked up a sick of dynamite than a makeup brush.

“My mom was a model,” Skylar said matter-of-factly. She seemed to take it for granted that everyone’s mom doled out fashion advice alongside the mashed potatoes at dinner. Emma’s mother wore shapeless cardigans and hopelessly uncool black peg pants, and when Emma had asked her to help teach her how to shave her armpits that winter, her mother had looked at her like she’d asked for a cigarette. “Sweetheart,” she’d said. “We have hair there for a reason. Do you really want to mess with evolution just to fit in?”

Just then, a group of senior girls pushed past, and Emma clutched at the fabric against her legs. She had to pull it up a little to avoid tripping on the hem.

“Let’s get out of the doorway,” she hissed.

“Yeah, I love this song!” Maddie danced out to the middle of the floor, where scattered clusters of campers were swaying gracelessly to the dated music. Dancing had not been exactly what Emma had in mind—hiding in the shadowy corner near the cookies was more her speed—but Skylar and Jo had already followed Maddie, shimmying their hips but laughing at the same time to make sure everyone knew they weren’t really trying to look cool. Emma was confused. Was she supposed to try or not try? Or try, but make it look like she wasn’t? Either way, she knew she was failing. So she tried not to think about her ridiculous outfit or about the bobby pins pinching her scalp as she reluctantly joined her friends. At least Adam wasn’t there yet. She silently thanked the universe for its small favor.

By the time Adam, Nate, and the rest of their bunk showed up, Motown was blasting from the speakers, and Mack was moving around the barn demonstrating dance moves like the twist and the monkey, to Jo’s horror. Luckily, Emma saw Adam before he saw her, so she had time to pin her arms to her sides and look uninterested. But Adam hung back, hugging the perimeter with Zeke and the twins. After briefly conferring with his friends, Nate made a beeline for the girls.

“Hey, Jo,” he said. Emma noticed dark stains spreading from the underarms of his blue button-down shirt. It was sweltering outside, and inside was worse.

“What’s up?” Jo asked, stopping to stretch her quadriceps.

“Um, I was just wondering . . . do you want to dance?” Nate kept his eyes on the floor.

“I
am
dancing,” she said.

This seemed to throw him. “Oh, I mean, like . . . later.”

“I’ll probably be dancing later, too,” she said. Nate stuck his hands in his pockets and shuffled away.

“He was asking you to dance,” Emma whispered. “One on one.”

Jo looked uncomfortable. “Well, what was I supposed to do?”

“I give up!” Maddie cried.

“This is what you’re supposed to do,” Skylar said. She turned to Zeke, who was standing a few feet away by the snack table with Adam.

“Hey, Tanner!” she called. “Wanna dance?”

His blue eyes got wide. “Yeah!” he said, tossing his Dixie cup of lemonade into the trash.

“
See?
” Skylar said. She directed it to Jo, but Emma knew the display had also been for her. She had to set her Adam plan in motion. She picked up her dress and walked over to where he stood, slouched against a thick support beam. He had taken care to look somewhat disheveled, with his untucked button-down and flip-flops, but Emma noticed that his hair had been reshaped from his usual hat-head into something resembling a pompadour.

“Hey,” she said. “Can I join you?”

“Sure thing.” He smiled. “You look fancy.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Skylar dressed me,” she explained. “I wish I had just worn regular clothes.”

“No,” Adam said. “I meant you look nice.”

“Wanna join us?” she asked. “Poor Nate’s out there by himself.” They watched Nate, who had joined another group and was attempting to dance with Jo by proximity, scramble to dodge Maddie’s flailing arms, which were encircling Jo in an invisible lasso.

“Sorry,” he laughed, “But I’m not going out there.”

“Come on! It’s fun!” Her entire plan hinged on getting Adam onto the dance floor. She could never just ask him to dance like Skylar had done with Zeke—it would be way too weird—but if they
happened
to be dancing near each other and a slow song
happened
to come on . . . well, that was different. Emma realized she had more in common with Nate than she wanted to admit.

Adam shook his head. “It’s lame.”

“You didn’t think it was lame last year. In fact, I remember you winning the limbo contest.”

He shrugged.

“There must be
someone
you’d dance with,” she pressed. The corners of his mouth twitched up. “Aha! I saw that.”

“Shut up.”

“You like someone.”

“Maybe.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. Emma knew she was treading in dangerous waters. Adam was a flirt, but she didn’t really want to know if he genuinely liked someone else. Then again, they were friends. A friend wouldn’t care. And Skylar always said the best way to get a guy to like you was to pretend you didn’t
care
if he liked you.

“Okay, spill. Who is it?” Emma steeled herself for the sucker punch she knew she was asking for.

“What if I said
you
?”

Her stomach lurched. Her mouth fell open. Adam burst out laughing.

“Relax, I’m kidding. I just wanted to see your face.”

Emma forced herself to smile, and it was so hard that for a second she felt like she still had braces, with rubber bands connecting her upper and lower jaw. “Very funny.”

“I still feel weird telling you, though,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s someone in your bunk.”

“Skylar has a boyfriend,” she said, reaching for a cookie.

“You know those aren’t real Oreos, right?” he asked.

“I don’t care; I love them.” She reached for another, almost out of spite.

“Anyway, it’s not
Skylar
,” he said. “Give me some credit for originality, please.”

Emma swallowed hard, the barely-chewed chunks of chocolate wafer scratching her throat. “Then who?”

He nodded his head to the right, and Emma looked over to see Aileen Abrams leaning against the wall, talking to some of the senior girls. Aileen had a brown shag haircut, big brown eyes, and a tiny button nose that made her look like Bambi crossed with Justin Bieber. She was pretty, but not
that
pretty. Not prettier than Emma, on a good day, anyway.

“Aileen?” she asked incredulously.

He shrugged again. “Do you think she likes me?”

“Why do you care what I think?”

He looked hurt. “Because I trust you. And you’re a girl, so you know girl stuff.”

Emma softened. He was genuinely asking for help. But still, her heart ached. She liked him the most when he stopped trying so hard to impress her.

“I’m sure she likes you, Adam,” she said quietly. “Everyone does.”

“Aw, you’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not.” She looked at him helplessly. “You’re a great guy. She’d be crazy not to like you.”
And I’m crazy to like you
, she thought.