Five Summers (5 page)

Skylar wondered what Emma would most like to hear. That she’d been desperately missed? That was true. That there was a new foosball table in the game room, one with controls that didn’t stick? Or did she want more salacious gossip, like the fact that, over the course of three summers, Skylar had managed to hook up in one way or another with half the male counselors? Skylar and Jo looked at each other, unsure of who should start. There was so much ground to cover.

“Well, my dad’s gone totally soft, as you just saw,” Jo laughed.

“I love it,” Emma said. “What else?”

“Gus finally fixed that rotten board on the dock,” Skylar said. “No more butt splinters.”

“Come on, I want
real
dirt,” Emma smiled. “You know: hookups, fights, boyfriends, frenemies.” Skylar concentrated on unfolding a checkered tablecloth. She had naively hoped they could skip over those topics, like fast-forwarding through commercials on DVR.

“No, no, no, and sometimes her,” Jo said, pointing at Skylar with a smirk.

“Hey!” Skylar cried. She knew Jo was kidding, but it still hit close to home. Since she’d started high school, she’d indulged a little bit too much in all those things.

“How’s school stuff?” Emma asked Jo. “Are you still thinking of going into sports medicine?”

“Maybe,” Jo said quickly. “I’m busy, though. Especially with camp all summer. This year I did lifeguard training and archery certification. Plus volleyball in the spring and track in the fall. So I haven’t had a lot of time to think about college.”

“Or boys, I take it,” Emma said with a wink. Skylar smiled and shook her head. After three summers, she knew better than to ask Jo about guys.

“What, the ones here?” Jo asked incredulously. “Um, no thank you.”

“Wait till you see Nate, though,” Skylar whispered. “He got
so
cute. And he likes Jo.”

“Shut up,” Jo laughed.

“He
does
.”

“Whatever.” Jo pretended to focus on stacking plastic cups, but she was blushing.

“There must be more than that,” Emma said, ripping open another sleeve of cookies and looking pleadingly at Skylar. “I spend my days sorting mail under fluorescent lights. I need to live vicariously.” She took a bite out of a discount chocolate sandwich cookie made to look like an Oreo. “Are you still dating Carlo?”

“No,” Skylar said slowly. “That whole thing turned out to be kind of a bad idea.” She wished she had just called Emma and gotten this conversation out of the way over the phone. It was humiliating to have to repeat it in front of Jo.

“Why?” Emma asked.

“Don’t ask,” Jo sighed. Skylar ignored her.

“Long story short,” Skylar said, “I stopped going to some of my classes, and since my dad pulled some strings to get me into the program, he got notified and was
not
too happy about it.” She laughed, but it wasn’t funny, and Skylar knew it. Emma knew it, too, from the look on her face.

“What did he do?”

“He made me come home.”

“Yikes, will you still have enough credits to apply to RISD?” Leave it to Emma to worry about her college applications.

“We’ll see,” Skylar said quietly. “My dad is advising me.”

“That’s great!” Emma finished with the cookies and dusted the crumbs off her hands. “Having another artist in the family must be so helpful. You’re so lucky!” Skylar nodded mutely. Her dad had been anything but helpful. In fact, after she’d gotten home from Italy, dutifully humble but eager to show him her sketches of the Duomo and Michelangelo’s
David
, and all the other sights that had so inspired her, he had bluntly told her to do something else for a living. Jason MacAlister was one of Philadelphia’s most respected gallery owners and had a reputation as a tough critic. But his legion of fans probably didn’t know that he had been rejecting his only daughter’s refrigerator art for years.

“And are you seeing anybody else since your gondolier?” Emma raised her eyebrows suggestively as she ripped open a bag of balloons with her teeth. Skylar shrugged and self-consciously covered her neck with one hand. It was a question she didn’t really know how to answer.

“Nah,” she said dismissively. “Nothing serious.”

It was, at face value at least, the truth.

Once the other graduates started showing up, giving Jo people to aggressively nametag and Emma people to talk to, Skylar excused herself for a minute to run over to the counselor’s porch and text Adam. Emma hadn’t asked about him yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. And she needed to know when he was showing up so that she could run damage control.

The male counselors had spent the morning—unbeknownst to Mack or Jo—making a beer run with Matt and Mark’s shared fake ID (“Mike Slutzky,” age 22 and a resident of Intercourse, PA). They were planning on smuggling the contraband to the abandoned toolshed near the bonfire site. Nedoba’s staff was incredibly responsible during the day, but as soon as the sun went down all bets were off, and when the kids left for the season it was a free-for-all. The late nights out in the woods or on Wexley Island were legend. In fact, Skylar had spent many of her mornings as a counselor trying not to let Jo know what she’d been doing the previous night, or with whom. Jo wasn’t stupid; she knew things were happening, and she even came along on some of the tamer outings, when the staff would sneak out to the north field and just sit around on milk crates trading stories about the campers. But someone had to stay on the girls’ side to keep an eye on the kids, and most of the time Jo seemed more than happy to be left behind. “I don’t want to know,” she would sometimes say to Skylar when they crossed paths at dawn, Jo on her way to raise the flag and sweep the mess hall and Skylar bleary-eyed and hung over, tiptoeing on the wet grass with her bra bunched in her hands.

She was standing on the porch with her back to the gazebo, pretending to be on a phone call and waiting for him to text her back, when the rusty green camp van rumbled into the parking lot and the boys got out looking smug. Apparently the fake ID had worked.

“Hey!” Adam called, jogging over to Skylar. At five ten, he had finally caught up to her height, but except for the stubble sprouting across chin, he looked just as boyish as he had at fourteen. His eyes twinkled as he slipped a hand onto the small of her back. “We’re all set. We’re gonna bury some six-packs in the sand for later.”

“Sandy beer,” Skylar said drily, pushing his hand away. “My favorite.” Adam shrugged. Everything rolled off him. “Did I miss anything?” He scanned the crowd in the gazebo. “I heard Beak got a nose job.”

“Who’s Beak?”

“Never mind.” He looked over her shoulder, and Skylar followed his gaze. Ironically, Emma was talking to
her
ex-flame, Zeke Tanner, who was still hot in spite of a T-shirt that proclaimed, in big neon letters, “Make art not war.” But while Zeke looked like he was trying too hard, Emma just looked naturally stylish and confident. Skylar watched Adam watch Emma and her heart sank.

“You didn’t tell me Emma was here!” Adam said.

“You didn’t ask,” she started to say, but he was already gone. It was an annoying habit of his. By the time she caught up, Adam was already lifting Emma into a bear hug.

“Em!” Adam cried. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you in the flesh. I got so used to your instant messenger avatar.”

Emma laughed. “You know that’s Michelle Obama, right?”

“I
thought
you looked different,” Adam said with a wink. Skylar had forgotten how easy their chemistry was. She used to wonder if Emma was kidding herself going after Adam, who was such a flirt with everyone, but there was definitely something there—anyone could see it. And it hurt, the way he looked at Emma.

But not as much as it would hurt Emma to know the way he’s looked at you
, she thought miserably.

“We were just talking about how much we missed you,” Adam said.

“Really?” Emma’s eyes lit up.

“Absolutely,” Adam said. “You should have applied to be a counselor. It is”—here he looked over at Jo and raised his voice—“the most awesome job ever.”

“I’m sure it is when you disappear for hours and don’t help clean the bunks,” Jo said. “Where were you?” She turned to Nate, who’d arrived from the van bearing a glass bottle of Coke, Jo’s favorite beverage, which could only be gotten at the general store in Onan. Nate was so handsome now. His curly, dark blond hair framed his thoughtful, deep-set blue eyes, and he’d grown into his nose since they were kids. He’d also shed his acne and the last of his baby fat. Skylar had to admit that even she stopped to watch when he played soccer on the Green without a shirt on. Jo, as usual, didn’t seem to notice. She took the Coke without even thanking him.

“We had to drive into town to get some, uh, supplies,” Nate stammered.

“You didn’t ask for any petty cash,” Jo said, genuinely confused. Skylar smiled. Her obliviousness could be incredibly charming.

“Anyway,” Adam interrupted, turning back to Emma. “We missed you.”

You said that already
, Skylar wanted to scream.

“I missed you, too,” Emma said.

“He’s the same,” Jo interjected flatly. “You didn’t miss much.”

Adam looked hurt. “That stings, Jo,” he said. “You of all people should know that I have blossomed into a beautiful flower as your personal lanyard keychain apprentice.”

Jo laughed. Adam’s charm worked on everyone, eventually. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll forget about your ‘supplies’ if you play some hacky sack with me. I can’t eat any more cookies or I’ll barf.”

“As much as I’d love to revisit the mid-nineties, I’m kind of catching up with a long-lost friend here,” Adam said at the same time that Nate practically screamed, “I’ll do it!” Jo glared playfully at Adam as she and Nate headed off to the Green.

“So,” Adam said, looking back and forth from Emma to Skylar. “What now?”

It was the question Skylar had been asking herself for the past three years, ever since the first time she’d hooked up with Adam. How many times had she snuck out in the dark to meet him, creeping past her sleeping campers, a mini flashlight tucked in the front pocket of her jean shorts? How many times had she told herself it would be the last time? She’d been able to postpone the guilt summer after summer, telling herself she wasn’t doing anything
really
wrong—it wasn’t like he and Emma were a thing. They’d never even kissed! And that first night, they’d both been feeling so insecure. It had almost been an accident. It had definitely been a mistake. What now? She had to tell Emma, obviously. She needed to make things right. For starters, she would need to keep Adam at arm’s length—from both of them.

“Don’t you have to put away that stuff you got in town?” Skylar reminded him.

“Oh, right,” he said. He turned to Emma. “Then I guess we’ll have to catch up later.” He jogged off, barely even glancing at Skylar. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but it still stung. Actually
talking
to Adam had become a rare occurrence lately. It had gotten to the point where they wouldn’t even say hello when they met for their “dates,” before he put his hands on her, kissing her, pushing her down onto the grass. Skylar shuddered. She didn’t know how to tell Emma, she didn’t have anyone she could ask for advice (Jo didn’t even know; at least, not the extent of it, not how out of hand it had gotten), and the only person who she thought might understand how she was feeling was suddenly treating her like she was invisible.

Skylar tried to smile at Emma as they wandered over to watch Jo and Nate kick their weird little beanbag back and forth. But she felt worse than ever. The thing was, being with Adam didn’t feel so much like a mistake, or even an accident, anymore. Seeing him with Emma again had made her realize that, however inconveniently, she finally felt something real.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE WE’RE
SENIORS
,” EMMA SAID. IT WAS the first night of camp, and they were all getting ready for their last welcome bonfire in their bunk. Everything was “the last” thing now, and it was their new favorite thing to say even though they were only about six hours in.

“I know,” Skylar said, examining her wild hair in Maddie’s hand mirror and gathering it into a messy bun. “It’s the Summer of No Excuses!” Emma could tell Skylar was using capital letters. When her mood was right, she could be as dramatic as Maddie.

“Is that directed at
moi
?” Emma asked with a smile. She reached into her trunk and pulled out a dress she had bought with her birthday money from her grandpa especially for the occasion. It was red and white striped and had a breast pocket embroidered with a navy anchor. It smelled department-store new. It was also impractical, given the mosquitoes and ticks, not to mention the fact that the bonfire required that everyone sit on giant logs with notoriously crotch-poking stumps, but Emma didn’t care; to her, it was optimistic. It meant that this summer—her last summer—would be different, full of the sorts of splendors a girl with a solid A-cup chest who finally had straight teeth and who had finally figured out tampons and who looked like she lounged around on sailboats all day wearing breezy nautical-themed dresses deserved to enjoy.

“No, it’s for all of us,” Skylar announced. “For instance, I am going to stop making excuses not to go to the pottery studio. I’m going to put in at least two hours a week. You are all my witnesses. I know it’s messy and frustrating, but it’s something I love to do.”

“And Zeke Tanner basically lives there,” Maddie said.

“Added bonus.” Skylar grinned.

“Well I’m going to perform at the talent show, finally,” Maddie said. She had signed up every year only to cancel the night before.

“Clog dancing?” Jo asked hopefully.

“
No
,” Maddie said with a laugh. “Singing ‘The Rose,’ which is my favorite song, and which you will all love . . . or else.”

“I—
we
—” Jo said, “are going to win capture the flag.” She gave Emma a look. “Which you will all love. Or else.”

Emma groaned. She had always been terrified of capture the flag. She hated all tag-based games, actually, as well as any games where running fast and having good hand-eye coordination were considered important. Her parents were academics and her brother was a film geek, so Emma’s childhood had not exactly been full of athletic pursuits.

“What about you, Em?” Skylar asked. “What’s your summer goal?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess to get my swim badge.” Emma could swim, but not well enough to pass the Nedoba swim test, which meant that she couldn’t go on any of the canoe trips out on the lake. Not that she cared. She was happy to stay on dry land.

“Come on,” Maddie said. “It has
nothing
to do with Adam?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said again. “I think we’re just good friends.”

“We’ll see . . .” Skylar said, pulling on a sweatshirt that managed to be both two sizes two big and flattering at the same time. Emma pulled the dress over her head and smoothed it down over her legs.

“You’re gonna be cold,” Jo said, tugging on Emma’s dainty cap sleeves.

“No, I won’t,” she said. “Someone zip me up.”

“Bossy new Emma!” Skylar exclaimed, lifting Emma’s ponytail out of the way so she could fasten the dress. “I like it.”

“We’re seniors now,” Maddie said, dabbing her pinky in a pot of tawny lip gloss. “We’re supposed to be bossy.”

“How do I look?” Emma asked, spinning around. She wanted to check herself in the full-length mirror in the girls’ bathroom, but Jo was already standing impatiently by the door.

“Cute!” Skylar and Maddie cooed in unison.

“You’re gonna be cold,” Jo said again, tossing back a handful of trail mix.

“I don’t care,” Emma said stubbornly. “I like it, and, you guys . . . it’s my
last entrance
!”

Skylar laughed so hard she cried. Jo almost snarfed a peanut.

When they got to the fire pit—after a last first walk along the winding dirt path that led from the girls’ side of camp past the barn and through the woods toward the lake, which led to their last first mosquito bites and ankle scratches and flip-flop rocks of summer—the girls clustered on the big log nearest to the fire that had always been reserved for the oldest campers. With Skylar on one side and Maddie on the other, Emma felt warm and safe as the flames licked at the air near her knees, the reedy thrum of the crickets’ song cutting through the still night air.

As seniors, it was their job to lead the songs, which was widely considered an unofficial audition for CIT spots.

“Okay!” Skylar yelled, jumping up and shimmying back and forth, her roomy cutoffs bouncing on her hips. “Who here can spell
chicken
?!” The experienced campers cheered, while the newbies looked confused. Skylar clapped her hands above her head and started singing.

“C—that’s the way it begins, H—is the next letter in, I—you’re in the middle of the word, and C—you’ve already heard, and K—now you’re roundin’ the bend, and E—you’re nearin’ the end
 . . .
”

Emma smiled at Jo and Maddie as they all shouted the last line. “C-H-I-C-K-E-N! That’s the way you spell CHICKEN!”

On the last syllable, Emma looked out across the fire and saw Adam smiling back at her. He started to inch his way around the crowd, and her stomach did a little flip as Jo launched into “Found a Peanut.” By the time the narrator was deciding to eat the rotten legume anyway, Adam was wedging himself in between Maddie and Nate.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked rhetorically.

“Is that line still working?” Maddie replied with a sweet smile.

“So it’s going to be that kind of summer,” he laughed.

“I’m just giving you a hard time,” Maddie said. “You know we love you, Loring.” She paused. “Some of us more than others.”

Emma elbowed her in the ribs.

Across the circle, the brand-new nine- and ten-year-old campers looked lonely and frightened. Some of them had tear-streaked faces, and Emma remembered the terror she had felt the first time she realized her parents weren’t coming back for four whole weeks.

“Remember when we were that little?” she asked after Jo finished the last verse.

“The seniors seemed so old,” Maddie said. “They were huge, weren’t they? I don’t feel that big.”

“That’s because you’re a midget,” Jo said.

“You’re
petite
,” Emma said, giving Maddie a reassuring pat.

“I was never that little,” Skylar said, tucking her long legs up under her chin. It was true—Skylar had always been the tallest girl at Nedoba, except for Macy Ring, whose mom was in the WNBA.

“Well,
parts
of you were little,” Adam said, a smile creeping across his face. Skylar reached across Emma and smacked him on the thigh, hard. “Hey!” he cried, clearly delighted with the attention. “That’s too close for comfort. I want to have kids someday.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully they’ll have the decency not to announce to the whole cafeteria that someone is so flat she doesn’t need a bra.” Skylar’s tone was angry, but she was fighting a smile.

Emma tried to pretend she was having fun, but being in the middle of a kindergarten hair-pulling session was not what she’d hoped her dress would inspire. “Stop torturing her,” she whispered to Adam.

“Okay, fine.” He paused and then flashed a flirty smile. “Can I torture you instead?”

You do that already
, she wanted to say, but instead she shook her head. “If you don’t have anything better to do, you can roast me a marshmallow.”

“Coming right up!” He left to search for a stick.

“Are you sure you’re just friends?” Jo shouted over the din.

“Shhhhhhhhhh!” Emma hid her face in her hands. Adam’s friends were sitting a few feet away.

“Sorry!” Jo stage whispered.

“I think you should go for it,” Maddie said, patting Emma on the knee. “My mom and dad met at camp.”

Emma peeked an eye out from between her fingers. “Are you serious?”

“He was a counselor and she was a camper,” Maddie said. “It was
very
illicit.”

“Ew!” Jo said, looking stricken.

“They were only a year apart in age,” Maddie said.

“Still,” Jo shuddered. Maddie shrugged. Mack was trying to start a sing-along round of “Make New Friends.”

“We’re just looking out for you,” Skylar whispered to Emma, the fire reflecting in her eyes. “Adam’s cute and funny, but he’s so immature. Everything he does and says is just to look cool.”

“I know,” Emma said defensively. She thought it was weird that Skylar was suddenly acting so protective, when just last summer she’d offered her five dollars to kiss Adam. (Okay, to be fair, Skylar had bet
against
Emma, but it had still seemed encouraging at the time.)

“I just don’t want him to play with you,” Skylar said, giving Emma a squeeze. “Even if he’s just your friend.” Then it was their turn to sing.

“Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other gold . . .” As soon as the round passed, Emma turned back to Skylar.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she whispered. “There’s no playing going on. I’m out of the game. I forfeit.”

“Okay, I’ll back off,” Skylar said, looking a little skeptical. “But just remember, it’s our last summer. It should be about
us
.”

A few seconds later, Adam returned with two sticks speared with marshmallows. “M’ladies,” he greeted them as he sat back down. “Anybody up for a joust?” He jabbed the sticks in the air, imitating a fencer. “No one?”

Jo rolled her eyes, and then she, Maddie, and Skylar joined in on a boisterous song about Johnny Appleseed. Emma knew the words, but she was distracted.

“You know,” she said, leaning over to Adam, who was just mouthing along. “You can just be normal. You don’t have to try so hard.” He started to grin, and Emma could see the wheels turning in his head, crafting the perfect snappy comeback. But then he stopped. The smile disappeared and he fell silent.

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I just . . . it feels like every year I want to try something different. Be someone different, I guess.” Emma looked down at her dress. A stray thread spiraled down from the hem; she’d probably snagged it on a branch.

“Someone better,” she said. Adam looked at her and smiled, a genuine smile this time, with no trace of his former teasing.

“Exactly.”

“Well, we’re seniors now,” she said slowly. “So that means we’re automatically better. Right?”

“If only it were that easy.” He blew on the roasted marshmallows and handed one stick to Emma, and she took them, grateful for the warmth. (Jo had been right after all—she
was
cold.) “To being better,” Adam said, holding up his stick like a champagne flute.

“To the best summer ever,” Emma amended, tipping her marshmallows at him.

“I like your dress, by the way,” he said.

She smiled and looked into the fire as she waited for her turn to sing again. Maybe she’d lied to Skylar without meaning to. Maybe she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.