Jenny, in turn, loved the noise and chaos of the Romano household. The older the kids got, the louder and more boisterous they became. Somebody was always yelling at somebody else. Tempers flared and subsided like kitchen matches being struck. Jenny adored the life and passion she found there. She was fascinated by the ability of siblings to argue over absolutely nothing.
“I’d give anything to have a sister,” she said.
“Count your blessings,” Nina would say, rubbing her head where her big sister Loretta had just pulled her hair. “You do
not
want a sister. Or a brother.” One time, her brother Carmine had stolen her diary and read it aloud over the school’s PA system when he was supposed to be reading the morning announcements. The prospect of her writing being broadcast like that secretly thrilled Jenny, but she didn’t say so.
On a summer day the grown-ups had declared a “scorcher,” Jenny and Nina found themselves with nothing to do. They went to the bakery then, which was something Nina loved so much that her pleasure made it seem special to Jenny, too, even though it was as ordinary to her as her own backyard. To Jenny’s surprise, they found about a dozen little girls in the bakery kitchen, all lined up in the prep area. Laura Tuttle explained that it was Parents’ Weekend at Camp Kioga. The parents of all the campers came from far and wide for a visit, and the camp hosted special outings, like tours of an actual working bakery. It seemed people had an endless fascination with how a simple loaf of bread came into being.
The girls were wearing red shorts and gray T-shirts with the Camp Kioga logo. Their parents—the mothers in crisp, sleeveless blouses and the fathers in golf shirts and Bermuda shorts—stood back, looking on. On each girl’s chest was a sticker that said “Hi! My name is…”
followed by what Jenny considered rich-girl names—Ondine and Jacqueline, Brooke and Blythe and Garamond. Dare and Lolly.
“We’re the Fledglings,” the perky counselor “—Hi! My name is Buffy—” was telling Laura. “That means we’re in the eight-to-eleven age group. And it also means we get to do the best field trips, don’t we, Fledglings?”
The girls chirped in reply.
Jenny and Nina clapped their hands over their mouths to keep from laughing aloud. A chubby blond girl at the end of the line lingered near Jenny. While the rest of the group checked out the prep area, she said, “I’m Olivia Bellamy.”
“Hi, Olivia,” Jenny said, though she observed that the name tag read “Lolly.”
She glanced over at a tall, serious-looking man who stood with the other visiting parents.
He had sandy hair and light eyes, and he seemed to be wishing he could be anywhere but crammed into a bakery prep area. The girl glanced at him and whispered, “My parents are getting a divorce.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny said awkwardly. Sometimes kids were funny, telling their secrets to strangers the way Jenny told them to her diary. “Have a donut, Olivia.”
Laura clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “My name is Miss Tuttle,” she said.
“Let me show you around, and then we’ll have a cookie tasting.”
Bored, Jenny and Nina helped themselves to fountain lemonade from behind the counter and headed outside. They could easily pick out the Camp Kioga parents. They didn’t wear uniforms like the campers, but they were all creased and expensive-looking, as though they’d spent hours trying to achieve that casual air. The kids in camp colors swarmed the town in packs, showing off the town to their parents.
Jenny immediately spotted Rourke McKnight, off by himself. And he was looking right at her.
Okay, she thought. Now what? Decision time. She could pretend she hadn’t seen him. Or she could act like his friend.
“Come on,” she said to Nina. “There’s someone I want you to meet.” Maybe she would go with Rourke, and Nina would go with Joey, and the four of them would be friends forever.
How cool would that be? Except Nina wouldn’t be interested. She had a secret boyfriend who went to the prep school in the next town. She had to keep him a secret because she said her brothers would rearrange his face if they found out, because they considered her way too young for a boyfriend.
Jenny tried to figure out which set of parents belonged to Rourke. Unlike most of the other campers, he wasn’t playing tour guide to anyone. Maybe his folks hadn’t shown up. Maybe he’d be glad to see a friendly face. Towing Nina behind her, she went right up to him and said hi. She was amazingly not tongue-tied. He looked even better than he had the first time she’d met him.
He had a golden suntan and even blonder hair, and the scar on his cheek had nearly healed, though it was still visible, a small crescent moon.
“Hi,” he said. “I was just—”
“Rourke, hey, Rourke!” Joey joined them, grinning with exuberance. Unlike Rourke’s cautious smile, he wore an exuberant grin. “Hey, Jenny,” he said without a shadow of bashfulness. “This is my father, Bruno Santini.”
Jenny greeted him and introduced Nina.
Mr. Santini didn’t look a bit like the other parents. He was squat and strong, with dark, wavy hair and a way of gazing at Joey that just glowed with love. Watching them, Jenny felt a pinch of envy.
“So you made some friends,” Mr. Santini said, giving Joey a gentle slug on the shoulder.
“Good job, sonny-boy.”
“That’s Jenny’s bakery over there.” Joey pointed it out. “And Nina’s mom runs the kitchen up at the camp.”
“I can tell they been feeding you well,” Mr. Santini said, beaming. “My mama used to say good food is more important than a long life.”
Rourke was very quiet, politely so, standing off to the side a little. He was eyeing Joey not with the envy Jenny felt, but with genuine affection. She knew he was best friends with Joey the way she was with Nina. Then, as Jenny watched, Rourke’s face changed, his blue eyes turning hard and cold. She followed the direction of his gaze and spied a handsome couple coming toward them. His parents, for sure. The father was tall and slender, with light hair going slightly gray at the temples. The mother wore a slim khaki dress and expensive-looking shoes. Rourke got his blond hair and blue eyes from her.
The round of introductions was much more formal this time. Jenny found herself tongue-tied, though Nina bombarded the McKnights with nosy questions, because that was what Nina did. She was nosy and fearless, demanding to know where they lived, what Mr. Santini’s and Mr. McKnight’s jobs were. When Rourke’s father said he was in the state assembly, Nina slapped her forehead. “Senator Drayton McKnight,” she exclaimed. “Get
out.
”
Jenny had never heard of Drayton McKnight. Who, besides Nina, would know such a thing? Of course, Nina was obsessed with politics and planned to run for office someday. She had studied every level of government from dogcatcher to state assemblyman to the president of the United States.
Rourke was clearly not enthralled by the prospect of being a senator’s son. “We’d better get going,” he said.
Jenny and Joey shared a look, and they didn’t really have to speak. They were the same, the two of them, quiet, raised by immigrants. Joey’s too-pretty eyes shone at her. After being bullied by those boys at the camp, Jenny had been ready to swear off kissing. Looking at Joey and Rourke, she was willing to reconsider.
A counselor’s whistle sounded, and Rourke nudged Joey. “Let’s go.”
“See you around,” Joey told them.
As the parents herded them away, Nina reeled and clutched at her heart. “Omigod, you weren’t kidding. He is
so
cute.”
“Which one?”
“Good point, they’re both cute. But Joey looks too much like my brothers.”
It was true. Joey would fit right in with the Romanos. By contrast, Rourke McKnight looked as blond and patrician as Prince Charming.
“Anyway,” Nina said, “it doesn’t matter, because he likes you, not me.”
Jenny’s face instantly caught fire. “You’re crazy.”
“Don’t deny it and don’t be all, like, he’s practically a stranger. I know what I know.
Including the fact that Joey has a crush on you, too.”
A feeling of giddiness whirled through Jenny, but she was embarrassed. This whole boy business was both wonderful and terrible at the same time. “First of all,” she said, “you’re wrong, and second of all, if you say anything to either of them, I’ll tell everyone at the bakery you’re a diabetic, and to never, ever give you anything to eat again.”
Nina sniffed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Jenny set her hands on her hips. “Try me.”
“He totally wants you,” Nina insisted.
Jenny’s face burned with a blush. She liked both of these boys. Joey because he was funny and easy and a lot like her, and Rourke because he was handsome and mysterious and kind of troubled. When she looked at him, she felt a funny tug at her heart. This business of liking boys was complicated, she decided. Maybe it was a good thing they both lived in the city. At summer’s end, they’d both be gone, and she wouldn’t have to like either of them.
Every summer after that, Jenny would anxiously watch the campers getting off the train at the station to see if Rourke McKnight would be coming to camp that year. And there he was again, taller and more golden than the previous year. Joey didn’t change much. He was always laughing at something, and studying Jenny in a way that didn’t embarrass her but made her feel special. Rourke was quieter, and when
he
looked at her, she didn’t feel special but…unsettled.
The third summer, he told her it would be the last for him and Joey as campers. It was the day before the Fourth of July. She was on a bakery run to the camp and slipped away when she spied Rourke. When he told her, she had the strangest reaction. On the one hand, she was disappointed, because it meant she’d never see him again. On the other hand, her heart gave a leap, because the first thing that occurred to her was that if she wanted to get him to kiss her, she
’d better work fast because time was running out.
She’d waited two whole summers for this.
She glanced around. They were alone because it was pouring, and most of the campers were in their cabins or in the main pavilion, doing crafts or playing board games. They ducked under the deck of the pavilion for shelter.
“I can’t believe it’s your last summer as a camper,” she said, taking a step toward him.
She stared at his mouth, just like it said in
Seventeen
magazine, a nonverbal cue.
He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Yes, she thought, yes, he knows. Jenny took another step, closing the gap between them. She tried something else—putting out her tongue to moisten her lips—another tip from
Seventeen.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, adorably flustered. “About that. We’ll be back. I mean, as counselors. Mr. Bellamy invited us both to work here next summer if we want.”
Oh. Maybe that was her cue to step back. She didn’t, though. But he was being so danged clueless, she didn’t know how to proceed, so she just grabbed him and hugged him. “I’m so glad, Rourke. I’m glad you’re coming back.”
For one magical moment, maybe the span of a heartbeat, he hugged her back, and it felt like in that split second she went to heaven. Then he turned all stiff and set her aside.
“So anyway,” he said, acting as if the moment never happened, “I’m pretty sure my dad will go ballistic and forbid me to do it. He’ll want me to spend my time more productively, as he puts it.”
“Does that mean you’re
not
coming back?”
“Nope. Just means I’ll have to fight to get my way. I always do.” He glared out at the curtain of rain sprinkling the lake.
“Do you and your dad fight a lot?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I try to pick my battles. He’s a mean son of a bitch.”
“What do you mean, ‘mean’?”
“How many kinds of mean are there?”
She figured it was a rhetorical question. She tried to adjust her thinking about the McKnight family. Like everyone else, she considered them picture-perfect, living the American dream. “You’re just lucky to have a dad,” she told him.
“Right.” He snorted.
“Sometimes I want a father so much, I’d even take a mean one,” she stated.
“Then you’re crazy.”
“Am not. I was once bitten by a dog,” she said, “and it turns out the reason the dog was mean was that it was abused.”
“A dog doesn’t know any better.”
“I’m just saying, there might be a reason. When people get hurt, they turn mean.” Or they just turn and run. She thought that might have happened to her mother.
He glared at her, and she saw that scary flash of temper he sometimes exhibited. Too bad, she thought. She wasn’t backing down. “How did we get on this topic?” she asked him. “All I wanted was—” She hesitated. Could she say it? Could she tell him? “I wanted you to kiss me. I still do.”
A soft sound came from him, a sort of groan. “No,” he said, “you don’t.” Then he stalked away, striding right out into the rain, not even hunching his shoulders in the downpour.
Jenny felt stupid. Tears smarted in her eyes. She hated Rourke McKnight. She would hate him forever. With that thought firm in her mind, she waited for the rain to stop, and then went to help her grandfather. As they finished the delivery, the sun came out again, and a rainbow arched over Willow Lake.
She walked around the side of the panel van and there was Joey Santini, waiting for her, a smile on his face. They spent a few minutes talking and laughing about nothing at all, and she reintroduced him to her grandfather.
Grandpa beamed approvingly as Joey shook his hand and said all the right things, like how much he liked Gram’s maple bars.
Thank God for Joey. He made her feel content and valued, and he was never on the verge of exploding. She was so comfortable with him. He never made her feel awkward or stupid. He never made her feel like crying.
The next night, she and Nina went up to Camp Kioga for the Fourth of July fireworks display at Willow Lake. And Joey made his move. A group of kids was sitting together on a blanket at the lakeshore, and he pressed his shoulder close to hers, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said.
Jenny didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if she wanted that or not. And even as Joey was scooting closer to her, she glanced over at Rourke. He stood nearby with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his shorts. He was staring at her with the oddest expression on his face. She tried to ask him with her eyes if there was a chance for them, but either he didn’t get the message, or he didn’t care. Then he easily slipped his arm around some girl’s waist and leaned down to whisper in her ear until she giggled.