“What do you mean?”
“When I’m at activities with the campers, it seems like she goes out of her way to find something to criticize me about.” I took a sip of wine.
“Give me an example.”
“Yesterday one of the Cubs was sitting under a tree reading a book during volleyball. Bethany marches toward me and starts scolding me for not forcing her to play. Meanwhile I had a long conversation with the mother during orientation that volleyball is the one sport she can’t play because her finger is still healing from a volleyball injury.”
“She’s learned that technique from Jack. Always approach a situation ready to criticize instead of assuming you have your reasons and giving you a chance to explain.”
“We’re all adults here. We all have children. Give us some credit for common sense. But after the kids are tucked in and we meet up in Mindy’s cabin, it’s like we’ve been the best of pals since the beginning of time.”
“You know, if we were in high school, they’d be the mean girls. But since we’re all adults here, and it’s camp, we have to get along—kumbaya and all that.”
“I enjoy relaxing with a gin & tonic. It’s a great way to unwind and laugh about how ridiculous our days are, but the best part is when we tear into Jack. It makes me feel like I’m not alone, you know—he’s a schmuck to everyone, not just me,” I said.
“Yup, he’s an equal opportunity schmuck.”
19Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall
The two aspirins I popped before I went to sleep didn’t help the next morning. My head throbbed as I wobbled down the hall to the bathroom, only to discover that I had my period. Ugh! It was trip day, and I would spend it at a water park with menstrual cramps when all I wanted was to crawl back in my bed and lie there in the fetal position for the next twenty-four hours, blinds drawn, oscillating fan on full blast. Instead, I’d be in a damp bathing suit, trying not to heave while taking care of other people’s children.
I heard a light tap on the door.
“Come in, I’m up.”
“You’re not dressed yet. Wait, you don’t look so good,” Abby said.
“I just got my period, and I’m moving kind of slow. Give me a couple of minutes.”
“That’s bad timing. I’ll go hang out with Maggie until you’re ready. We can skip our morning walk. We’ll do plenty of walking around the amusement park,” Abby said.
“Wow, Abs wasn’t exaggerating—you do look like crap,” Maggie said as I walked into arts & crafts.
“All I can say is, I’m not a happy camper. Do you think I can call in sick today?”
They both stared at me and then cracked up.
Maggie mimed a phone. “I’m sorry Mrs. Schapiro, we lost your daughter at the water park. Yes, her DL wasn’t feeling so well today, so there was no one covering her . . . I knew you’d understand.”
“I should’ve asked how many sick days we get before I signed my contract. Maybe I can snooze on the bus. I think it’s a two-hour drive.”
“As if,” Abby said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Don’t you remember being on bus rides as a kid, all the screaming and singing and giggling?”
“You know, ‘Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall,’” Maggie said.
I put my aching head in my hands and rubbed my temples. “It’s going to be a rough day.”
“Do you need a Midol?” Abby asked.
“I already took, waiting for them to kick in.”
The three of us left the studio together and saw Mike, in tight denim shorts, waving flags semaphore-style as a convoy of yellow school buses arrived to take the campers to the amusement park.
“Hey, Mike, seriously, is there anything here that you don’t do?” Maggie yelled to him from across the road.
