As we stepped off the porch, she said, “I came to get you for the meeting, but I see you’re not dressed.”
Abby and I traded confused looks.
“What I mean is, you’re still in your social clothes. That’s camp-speak for your civies, what you wear when you’re not at camp. You don’t have to change your pants, just throw on the polo shirt that’s in your knapsack. Camp rules, you know.”
“Okay. Give us a second,” Abby said.
We went into our rooms and changed into kelly green collared shirts with the camp logo stitched in white. I looked in the mirror with mixed emotions—it wasn’t very glamorous, but on the other hand it was empowering. I was part of a team, and I had a job to do.
Abby and I came out in our matching shirts. Hers was way too large, almost reaching her knees. She looked at me, her arms stretched out. “This is ridiculous.” I guessed she didn’t find it empowering.
As we rode to the meeting, Marilyn’s hair wafted in the wind, wiry gray strands threaded throughout. She was earthy, natural, without makeup, in contrast to the staged photos of her on the website. When she turned to me, her aviator sunglasses reflected my image. I looked pensive.Mental note, remember to smile.
Marilyn pointed out the sports fields and the dining hall as she drove and then swerved so sharply that I almost tumbled out as we passed the infirmary.
“It’s good to know where the infirmary is, in case I ever fall out of a golf cart.”
Abby giggled from the back seat. Marilyn gave me a puzzled look and continued driving as if nothing had happened.
A few minutes later, we arrived at our destination up a steep gravel road. Marilyn parked the golf cart next to three others.
The barn-shaped playhouse had a stage and high ceilings and was filled with at least a hundred young men and women sitting on rows of wooden benches.
Jack was leaning against the stage chatting when he saw us enter. I had met him in February when he came to the apartment to tell us about Woodlands. He greeted us, placing one arm around my shoulder and the other around Abby’s as if we were his long-lost relatives. There was something smarmy aboutthe way he introduced us. “Hey, everybody, this is Lori here on my right and Abby on my left.” He squeezed us into his sweaty body. “They have joined our little family this summer.”
Good thing I had plastered a smile on my face.
When Jack finally let go, I glanced around. A woman caught my eye and waved us over to her. She had a salt and pepper blunt haircut and a big friendly smile.
“I’m Gilda,” she said. “My title is program director, but I do myriad odd jobs. Marilyn told me about you two. I’m looking forward to working with you this summer. Abby, I heard you’re from Florida, I hope you’re not one of those Boca bitches.”
Abby seemed momentarily put off, but she smiled and said, “Would one of those so-called Bocawitches—I don’t curse—consider working at a sleepaway camp even for a second?”
“Well put. Let’s sit down. Our lord and master is about to hold court,” Gilda said.
I whispered into her ear, “Thanks for calling us away from him. I felt like part of his harem.”
“Ha, I think you and I are going to get along great this summer.”
3Senior Staff
Jack and Marilyn asked for everyone’s attention. Marilyn’s demeanor had softened, and they both had ingratiating smiles.
“Welcome to Woodlands! I’m Jack, and this is my lovely wife and co-director Marilyn.”
Marilyn waved.
“Take out the orientation schedules from your knapsacks. I would like you all to follow along as we go over this week’s schedule. If you’re a counselor, the cover sheet is green; if you are a specialist, the cover sheet is blue; and the senior staff’s cover is orange.”
I turned to Gilda, “Senior staff? Did Jack call us old?”
“At camp we’re definitely thealta kockers,” Gilda said.
Jack reached into a box on the stage and pulled out dark green T-shirts rolled up and tied with white ribbons. Marilyn began calling out names and Jack tossed the shirts.
Gilda leaned into me. “Each returning staff gets a loyalty T-shirt with a new slogan on it. This summer it’s ‘Back by Popular Demand.’”
Marilyn called Gilda’s name. She popped up, smiling, caught the shirt and held it high above her head as if it was the championship boxing belt and turned so the entire room could see how proud she was. There was a smattering of applause and a few whoops.
