Five Summers (8 page)

THE CAMP NEDOBA BARN WAS BUILT INTO THE SIDE of a small hill abutting the north field, overlooking the arts and crafts building. It was a long, low rectangular cabin that had always reminded Maddie of Frankfurter, the lost dachshund she’d had for a week when she was six, after she found him in the yard gnawing at the front wheel of her bike. The outside of the barn was relatively nondescript as barns went—tall, wide, red; the usual—but the inside had always felt like a wonderland: the walls of the drafty, cavernous space were covered in a childlike mural of flowering plants, which made playing tag in there feel like darting around an indoor forest. Mack had never put any real furniture in the barn other than a card table and some folding chairs. It was a rainy day playroom, a makeshift auditorium, and, for the girls, a secret hiding place.

“There’s a lot more crap up there now,” Jo said as they stepped inside, the cacophony of mid-afternoon noise giving way to a dusky quiet. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows, and particles of dust hung suspended in the hot, still air. Jo closed the barn doors behind them.

“I still can’t believe no one ever caught us,” Emma marveled.

“I can’t believe we never fell off,” Skylar laughed.

Maddie looked up at the loft. It was just a wooden platform on the east end of the barn, tucked under a splintery door that had always been nailed shut, although that didn’t stop droplets of rain from shooting through the ragged edges of the planks when it rained really hard. There was no ladder, for obvious safety reasons, since it was fifteen feet up. But on one lazy afternoon when they were ten, Maddie had discovered that if Skylar gave her a boost, she could shimmy up the knotty wood beam just as easily as she climbed sycamores back home.

“Where’s the rope ladder?” Maddie asked. She squeezed her hands reflexively, remembering the calluses she’d gotten from bracing her feet in the crack where the sloping roof met the loft floor and pulling the rope tight enough to hold Emma’s weight.

“Last time I was up there, helping Gus stack boxes, I stashed it under a bunch of blankets,” Jo said.

“Okay,” Maddie said, grinning impishly at Skylar. “I’m ready when you are.” Since Jo was almost as tall as Skylar now, they each took one leg and held her as high as their triceps could stand.

“Thank God you didn’t get fat,” Jo laughed.

“Can it, sister,” Maddie panted as she gripped the beam with both hands, hoping the tread on her Keds was strong enough to grip the sanded wood. “You’re talking to the girl who’s gonna be holding the rope.” The first few feet were touch and go, and Maddie briefly considered giving up, but then, all at once, the skill came back, her hands got surer, and she was swinging a leg onto the platform in no time.

Just like Jo said, the loft was crammed with boxes overstuffed with Camp Nedoba T-shirts, tennis rackets, and the big round clip lights Mack used for the annual talent show. But the little corner they used to huddle in was still there, crisscrossed with cobwebs. Maddie smiled. Obviously no one had been there in ages. It still belonged to them.

She unearthed the rope ladder they’d made—hours spent hunched over an old Boy Scout manual in the woods, not to mention the time it had taken to “borrow” the rope from the tool shed and whittle down branches for the rungs—from beneath a musty pile of blankets and tossed it over the side, whispering “Anchors aweigh!” like she always used to, eliciting giggles from Emma. Supporting weight was easier with the clutter; Maddie just had to shove a box against a beam and wedge herself behind it.

Once they were all up, they stood in a circle and stared at each other, panting and smiling.

“Now it’s official,” Maddie said. “It feels like we’re really back.” No one knew where they were, except for each other. The rest of the world seemed very far away.

“You know what I feel like?” Skylar said, stooping to avoid whacking her head on the ceiling. “Alice after she ate the EAT ME cake and got humongous.” They settled into a circle on the dusty planks.

“You haven’t been up here since we left?” Emma asked.

“Why would I? It’s a pain in the ass.” She smiled. “Plus, this is our place. Who else would I come here with?”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Maddie said. “Except for right here, in this spot, camp’s not really ours anymore.”

“It’s still ours!” Jo cried.

“It
was
ours,” Maddie said. “Now it belongs to some other kids. Some little, bizarro versions of us. We’re just passing through, like ghosts.” She ran her fingers along the graying wood, suddenly realizing why people were always compelled to scrawl their names onto walls in permanent marker, followed by the words
was here
.

“Don’t think of it that way,” Emma said brightly. “Think of it as them trespassing on our property.”

“Totally,” Skylar said. “And we can chase them off in our motorized wheelchairs!”

“Swinging our canes!” Jo added. They laughed.

“I really missed you guys,” Maddie said. She swallowed, feeling a lump forming in her throat. Until now, she hadn’t realized how long it had been since she’d been among friends. At school, everyone had stopped talking to her after word about Charlie got out. But they hadn’t stopped talking
about
her. As she’d walked the hallways, the whispers had glanced off her like airborne paper cuts.

“Hey,” Jo said, reaching over to grab Maddie’s chin. “I declare this a no-cry zone. We should be happy. We’re all here.”

“I am happy to be here,” Maddie said. “I’m just also overwhelmed. I don’t know where to even start.” She took a deep breath, knowing she had to be careful. If she let too much slip out, she could end up with an emotional avalanche.

“I have an idea,” Emma said with a sly smile. “Let’s play ten fingers.”

That could be dangerous, Maddie thought, but she’d never been able to resist a good round of inappropriate gossip. “I’m in!” she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

“Which game is that again?” Jo asked.

Skylar sighed. “You know it; we’ve played it dozens of times. You just suck at it, is all.”

“It’s never have I ever,” Emma explained. “You know, you turn a finger down if you’ve done whatever it is.”

“
Right
,” Jo said. “Okay, I’ll just keep mine up then, because I haven’t done anything.” She held her hands in front of her like a street mime pretending to be trapped in a box. Maddie guffawed.

“Okay, I’ll start,” Emma said. “I’m just going to put this out there now, because it’s the big one. . . .”

“That’s what she said,” Maddie whispered. She knew it was a cheap joke, but she couldn’t help it; humor became a defensive reflex when she was feeling anxious. Jo, being kind, laughed louder than she needed to.

“Never have I ever . . . had sex,” Emma announced. She wiggled all ten fingers. “Yes, I’m still a virgin. Don’t all gasp at once.”

“Ditto,” Jo said.

Well, they were bound to find out sooner or later. Maddie turned down the thumb of her right hand; across the circle, she saw Skylar do the same. Neither one of them looked particularly proud.

Jo gasped. “Wait!” she cried. “You had sex with whatshisname? Your lab partner?!”

“Charlie,” Maddie corrected. But it was true. Maddie and Charlie had been paired in sophomore chemistry lab thanks to alphabetical proximity, and after three months spent hovering warily over Bunsen burners, they’d become friends. They’d spent lunch hours quizzing each other on oxidation reactions on the track bleachers and speculating as to whether their teacher, who went by the nickname “Doc,” fashioned himself after Doc Brown from
Back to the Future
or after Snow White’s smartest dwarf. By the end of the semester their chemistry was soaring, even though they’d only pulled C’s in the class.

“And you didn’t tell me?!”

Maddie was frankly surprised that Jo seemed so interested all of a sudden. When she’d first told Jo about Charlie, after she swooned over his dark blond curls and bright blue eyes in freshman year homeroom, Jo had barely responded, and she’d never asked about him after they’d started dating. Hell, three seconds ago, she hadn’t even been able to remember his name.

“When?” Emma asked. “Is that too personal?”

“Nope,” Maddie said. “April 22, Holiday Inn Express, Brantley Boulevard, Fayetteville, North Carolina.”

“Wow,” Skylar laughed. Maddie just shrugged.

“People say you never forget your first time,” she said. She knew she never would.

Charlie had wanted to do it from the very start, of course, but Maddie thought fifteen was way too young, and besides, since her own mom had given birth to her at seventeen, Maddie was determined to graduate high school before engaging in any behavior that could possibly land her in the same situation.

They’d come close once, when Maddie had come over the night Charlie’s parents went away to Myrtle Beach for their anniversary. He’d pulled out all the stops, lighting candles, buying flowers, playing soft emo music, and even changing his sheets, and Maddie’s heart had felt like it was going to burst out of her chest as she took off her clothes. He’d been gentle and nervous and said all the right things, and they’d gone further than they ever had before. But when he asked her if he should get a condom, Maddie knew she wasn’t ready. It felt too fast. He’d assured her that it was okay and held her face in his hands and told her he loved her, and she’d left feeling weightless and giddy, so lucky to have a boyfriend who would wait for her.
With
her. But after a few months, Charlie had clearly grown tired of waiting.

“It’s not
normal
,” he would say petulantly when she pulled away in the backseat of his Toyota, which he eagerly drove into the woods on days that he could convince Maddie to ditch drama club to fool around. “We’ve been dating for a year. You love me, I love you . . . it’s just what happens next, Maddie.”

“How special,” she would reply. “Intercourse! The next step in the manual.” It had reminded her of health ed class, where the nether regions of the human body were bisected on diagrams, with arrows leading to various canals and ducts with ominous-sounding names.

A week before the junior prom, he’d threatened to break up with her.

“I’m not a total douchebag,” he’d said—inarguably a great start to any romantic monologue—“but I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter.” They’d been standing in the parking lot behind the Super Dog & Dairy, where Maddie worked an after-school shift, and Charlie had looked like he might cry. Maddie had been prepared to stand her ground, but as she’d listened to him stammer about commitment and trust, she’d realized that Charlie was the only solid thing she had in her life, at least since camp had ended. Things between her mom and Eddie were bad, and if they got divorced, Maddie realized she’d probably have to move to Alabama to live with her grandma. So she’d done what she thought she had to not to lose him. Hence the Holiday Inn Express. Hence the turned-down thumb.

“Okay, I’ve got one,” Skylar said, grinning. “Never have I ever . . . gotten a bikini wax!” Maddie was relieved that the spotlight was off her, and delighted when Skylar turned down her right pointer finger.

“What?” Skylar asked innocently. “Just me?”

“
Why
?” Jo asked, wincing.

“My cousin gave me a spa certificate for my birthday, and I just thought . . . why not?”

“Did it hurt?” Emma asked. “I once got my upper lip waxed, and . . .” she shuddered. “Never again.”

“And those were just the lips on your
face
,” Maddie cracked. They laughed so hard the rafters shook.

“Okay, I have one,” Jo said, once the giggling subsided.

“Never have I ever killed a man,” Maddie said solemnly, making a stabbing motion with her left hand.

“
No
,” Jo rolled her eyes. “I was going to say never have I ever skinny-dipped.” They all looked around at each other, but no one turned a finger down.

“Well now I know what we’re doing after the bonfire!” Emma laughed.

“I almost did once, but the lake water—ick,” Skylar said, grimacing.

“You did that
here
?” Jo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I just said I didn’t do it!” Skylar cried.

“Who with?” Emma asked.

Skylar hesitated. “A bunch of people,” she finally said. “But like I said, I didn’t, so . . .” She looked hopefully at Maddie. “Got one?”

“I feel bad for Miss Johannah Jazz Hands over there, so this one’s for her,” Maddie said. “Never have I ever worn a whistle as a necklace!”

Jo gamely turned a pointer down and they all cheered. “I don’t want your pity,” she said with a smile.

They flew through a dozen more—never had they ever smoked a cigarette (Skylar); kissed a girl (Skylar, Emma—but only for a school skit about LGBT rights, did that count?); had a beer (all of them—where had their innocence gone?). But when it came back around to Maddie on the last round, she decided to tell them what had really been going on with her—well, at least some of it.

“Never have I ever been in love,” she said, turning her pointer finger down. She looked around the circle. Emma bit her lip and seemed to consider it for a minute before keeping her six remaining fingers extended. Skylar looked down at the floor and shook her head. She was out of fingers, anyway. Jo’s hands didn’t so much as twitch.

“Charlie?” Jo asked, nodding at Maddie’s hands. She nodded and started to talk.

She told them about meeting him, and falling in love with him, and sleeping with him. And then she told them about how she hadn’t heard from Charlie the day after the Holiday Inn. Or the day after that. But she’d assumed that he, too, was processing what had just happened, and maybe even setting up some over-the-top romantic date to show her how grateful he was. In fact, when she’d noticed the e-mail from Christina, titled “Charlie,” her first thought had been that they were plotting something together. (
Like what
, her present-day self added witheringly,
a Congratulations on Giving It Up surprise party at the IHOP?
) Right off the bat, the e-mail should have been a red flag. In all their years of friendship, Maddie and Christina had always used their phones.