“Penelope’s about to take a cool photo for breast cancer awareness.” I hold out my hand. “Here, if you give me themarker, I can write it on your back. Then I’ll face the camera. How’s that sound?”
Penelope looks up, thinking, then nods. “Sure, yeah, that would be cool too. Eitan, you may as well take the photo.”
Eitan watches with a disapproving glare while I writeCHECK YOUR BOOBSon Penelope’s flawless back. As her arms fidget, I get a front row seat to her perfect, perky boobs. By the time I’m closing the loop on theS, I’ve blocked out everything but the slash of magenta pen. Penelope cranes her neck to look at my handiwork and my eyes shoot away, not wanting to see any more of her chest.
“Okay, you stand here.” She positions me while I keep my eyes mostly closed. “And I’ll standhere.” She plants herself next to me and throws her arms up. “Maybe, like, point to my back or something.”
If nothing else, Pen’s bizarre request has accomplished one thing: breaking the ice between Eitan and I. We hold in our laughter, our eyes pinging against each other like marbles, while Penelope stands with her hands raised, posing for the world’s dumbest photograph. Maybe a mosquito will bite her nipple.
I half-heartedly point at her back, while arranging my mouth into a smile. Eitan takes it, wincing.
“How’s it look?” Penelope calls over her shoulder.
“Incredible,” he says dryly.
“Campers!” Randy projects from the firepit. “Let’s all gather round.”
I’m so grateful to have an excuse to exit this photo-op that I consider calling him Skip. Pen puts her shirt on, snatching her phone back from Eitan, examining the photo.
“Who’s ready for an Outventures trip of a lifetime?!” Randy claps his hands together as the sixteen souls stuck on this joint-bach weekend sit around the firepit.
Pen clears her throat, prancing to the center of the circle. “Thanks, Skip!” Skip’s eyes bug out and he steps back, letting Pen take the floor. “It’s actually called Camp Goldberg.” She nudges her chin at Calliope, subtle yet manic. “Thank you all so much for coming! This is going to be the best joint-bachelor-bachelorette weekend there ever was!”
Calliope grunts as she hoists a large cardboard box and plunks it down in the center of the circle.
“And here’s the merch that Calliope had made,” Pen announces as she begins handing out printed tote bags.
Calliope made Camp Goldberg merch? This I gotta see.
Inside the tote, there’s a matching lavender sweatsuit with aCamp Goldberglogo, a purple water bottle, packets of electrolyte powder, a friendship bracelet, and…a Smirnoff Ice.
“Ha!” Pen points around the circle. “You’ve been iced! Bottoms up!”
The guys—besides Eitan—immediately go to a kneel, well-trained frat boys that they are. Steve is first to finish, beating his fists against his chest. The girls drink it slower, not making any move to get down on one knee. I crack open the bottle and pour it onto the pine needles.
Pen returns to the edge of the circle. “Back to you, Skip!”
“Uh, thanks.” Skip adjusts his buff. “Outventures trips are all about teamwork. Working together. Tonight, everyone is going to do their part to cook and clean a feast of campfire spaghetti and skillet brownies, and over the next two days, we will be canoeing and hiking the almighty Au Sable River.”
“Wait.” Penelope holds up a hand. “We’re canoeing?”
Calliope shrugs. “You said you wanted a camping trip.”
“I meant, like, a picturesque walk through nature to a yurt,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Come on, baby, this will be fun!” Josh squeezes her shoulder. “This is exactly like summer camp.”
“I promise the Au Sable will be a special experience. Are there any fishers here?” Skip looks around the group, met with blank stares. “These are holy waters for fishing. So we’re going to be a good friend to Mother Nature and leave no trace.” The group nods, agreeable if not enthusiastic. “On Sunday, Bessie and I will shuttle everyone back to their cars after breakfast. Sound like a good plan?”
Is his van…named Bessie?
“Everyone can pick their bunkmates and set up their tents, and then we’ll start dinner in—” Skip makes a show of looking at his watch, which appears to have been purchased in 2006. “Thirty minutes!”
“Are tents co-ed?” one guy asks. His voice is suspiciously Steve-like.
“We’re all adults.” Skip nods.
“Nice.” Steve holds up a hand for a high five that no one accepts.
