I whispered in Abby’s ear, “Do you think we’ll be sitting here next summer having T-shirts thrown at us?”
“I can hardly believe I’m sitting here right now.”
Marilyn talked about the importance of keeping proper tabs on the campers. “In the papers we gave you, there’s a blank bunk report. Those need to be filled in daily. You are our eyes and ears. Jack and I need to know what happens during the day for all five hundred campers.”
Then a man named Bob, head of Boys Camp, spoke about how everyone’s time off worked. Then he introduced me. “Everyone, once again, this is Lori. She’s going to be the DL for the Cubs this summer. Lori, please stand up.”
“Do I get a T-shirt?” I said, laughing.
“We’ll have to see if you’re T-shirt worthy,” Jack wisecracked.
“That felt a little harsh,” I whispered to Gilda as I sat down.
“Yeah, when Jack’s at camp, all the charm he laid on getting you to sign up gets flushed down the toilet. I always say it’s one of the reasons for the sketchy plumbing.”
“Next up is Abby, the DL for the Chipmunks,” Bob said.
As Abby stood, I looked around the room and saw Ted leaning against the back wall. Between us were the fresh-faced young men and women, smiling and wearing the same shirt. A chill went through me causing me to shudder.
“Are you okay?” Gilda asked.
“It’s weird, all of us dressed alike.”
“Does it make you feel like you’ve been dropped into the middle of a cult?”
“Yeah, kind of.” I let out a nervous giggle.
“And you haven’t even drunk the Kool-Aid yet.” Gilda laughed.
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”
“Why would you think I’m trying to make you feel better? I think summer camps are cultish You either buy into it, or youdon’t. Let’s talk at the end of the summer, and you can let me know your thoughts then.”
I wanted to continue our conversation, but I heard Marilyn asking the female staff to head to the theater on the girls’ side. Abby and I headed out together. We were halfway down the gravel path when Marilyn pulled up next to us with another woman riding shotgun and wearing expensive-looking sunglasses.
“Hop in,” Marilyn said.
We climbed into the back of the cart.
“Hi, I’m Bethany, the head of Girls Camp.”
Before we could reply, Bethany turned away and Marilyn jerked us forward. I held on tight, but Abby flew into me as we sped away. So far, the most important takeaway from the day was that golf carts didn’t have seat belts.
Marilyn and Bethany were engrossed in conversation.
Abby had scribbled “Bosses?” on a notepad and nodded toward Marilyn and Bethany. I nodded yes.
Bethany’s beautiful golden tresses shimmered in the sun. I caught hints of colored highlights, and I wondered what it would look like at the end of the summer after at least two missed salon appointments. Come to think of it, I’d miss my appointments with Zito. By the end of August, we’d all be washed out with our grays showing—theseniorstaff moniker would ultimately fit.
We came to an abrupt stop in front of the girls’ theater.
Inside the theater was a sea of youth and beauty. I was used to being around large groups of awkward adolescents, but the last time I had been surrounded by so many striking young women must’ve been when I was one of them.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling ancient,” I whispered to Abby.
“You got that right, girlfriend.”
Gilda led an attractive, tall brunette with beautiful porcelain skin over to us. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.
