Authors: Marta Brown
Emily
The
sun is too bright and my feet hurt. But the hangover and the heels were totally
worth it as my stomach flip-flops thinking about the way Tyler’s lips felt
against my skin. And if I have anything to do with it—I’ll feel them
again—sooner rather than later.
“I
thought we made headway last night, but apparently I was wrong,” Mom says so
loudly she’s on the verge of yelling. “But once again, the team comes first,
even before your own daughter.”
Grabbing
my duffle bag, I slide my sunglasses onto the top of my head, and brace myself,
and my pounding headache, for a front row seat to the millionth fight over Dad’s
job and his commitment to his team.
“I’m
sorry, but I had no choice. Hank called as a courtesy, and I wasn’t going to
let one of my star players risk his entire future over an arrest for public
intoxication.”
Star
players? I shake my head. Tyler wasn’t
that
drunk. Was he?
“Someone
got arrested?” I ask, dropping my bag by the front door, and hoping it wasn’t
Tyler. Then again. When I figure a way out of camp, hooking up with a bad boy
might just drive my parents crazy mad. At me. “What happened?”
Dad
runs a hand down his face before answering. “One of my players was running
around, half naked last night at a party on campus, yelling something or other
about his cat running away.” Dad blows out a long breath. “I swear the boy’s
not all there, but what can I say? He’s one hell of a pitcher.”
I
try not to laugh, but I can’t stop myself since he’s talking about Pete. And
I’m pretty sure that cat he was talking about starts with a K.
“It
wasn’t very funny when I had to go and pick him up from the drunk tank at two
in the morning.” Dad frowns, looking exhausted.
“You
didn’t have too.” Mom narrows her eyes, her nostrils flaring. “You never have
too, but you always do. That team comes first, day or night.”
“Pam,
will you just let up. I’m too tired for this right now.”
Mom
jabs her index finger at Dad. “You knew we were taking Emily to camp this
morning and now, not only are you too tired to take her with me, you’re too
tired to even talk about it. You know what, Bob, you’re not the only one tired
around here. I’m getting pretty sick and tired—”
“Mom,”
I interrupt, trying to stop her from saying something she might regret. “I
actually asked Kat to take me, you know, since I won’t get to see her for so
long. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”
“But—”
Kaitlin’s
car horn honks outside, cutting Mom off, and I’m not sure she could have timed
it any better.
In
an instant, Mom’s anger at Dad is replaced by sadness over me leaving, and I
have to stop myself from scoffing since she’s the one making me go to camp in
the first place.
“Don’t
forget to wear your sunscreen and write every day,” Mom says, pulling me into a
hug, reminding me that for the next eight weeks, I’m resigned to writing
letters in order to correspond with family and friends. No emails. No phones.
No joke.
“All
right, kiddo,” Dad says, leaning down to kiss my forehead as he tries to stifle
a yawn, causing Mom to huff, irritation written all over her face. “Don’t get
in any trouble, and try to have fun. Okay?”
I
grab my duffle bag and pull my sunglasses over my eyes to hide the pooling
tears when Kat honks again. The weight of leaving them alone for the next eight
weeks scares me worse than losing all modern day means of communication. I’m
afraid I’m going to lose something so much worse. My family.
“I
better go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” I say, giving them each one more hug,
dead set. I have to get out of camp. One way, or the other.
“Love
you.”
…
“Hung
over, much?” Kat asks cheerily, handing me an iced coffee when I get into her
car, the stereo turned up and the convertible top down.
Ugh.
Morning people.
“Please
tell me this is a double shot?”
“Of
course.” She smiles. “Now, enough small talk, I want the deets,” she says,
pulling out of my driveway and starting down the street towards the highway.
“I was so freaked out last night that we were gonna get busted by my dad that
if you told me anything, it didn’t register. Like. At all.”
I
laugh. “Speaking of your dad busting someone, my dad just told me he had to
bail Pete out of the drunk tank last night.”
“Omg!
I know! Isn’t Pete amazing?”
“Huh?”
Kaitlin
smiles like a cartoon character with heart shaped bubbles floating around her
head. “He totally did that on purpose, so you and I could bail before my dad,
or one of the other officers caught us.”
“Wow,
that is amazing.” I take a sip of my coffee. “So, when are you going to see him
again?”
She
frowns. “Tonight.”
“Um,
you know you’re not smiling, right?” I furrow my brows at my best friend.
“I
know.” She throws me a look. “I’m just bummed. He takes off tomorrow for
Martha’s Vineyard, for the
entire
summer. I guess he goes every year and
works at some fancy country club parking cars. It just sucks, ya know? I mean,
we just met, and now he’s leaving.”
“Trust
me, I know the feeling,” I say, thinking about not getting to see Tyler again.
That is—unless I can pull off some Houdini-like disappearing act from camp.
Which I totally intend to do. Somehow.
Kaitlin
gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’m such a bad friend complaining
about not getting to see Pete, when you and Tyler are pretty much in the same
boat.”
“Except
you’re able to talk to Pete while he’s gone. If I want to talk to Tyler again,
I’d have to send him a letter. From camp.” I chuckle at the sheer humiliation
of sending some super hot guy I almost hooked up with a letter from summer
camp. “Um, no. Not happening. I’d totally die if he knew I was spending my
summer away at camp. So no telling Pete, okay?”
“Okay,
promise. Now spill.”
…
Two
and a half hours later, with every single detail about last night with Tyler
spilled, Kaitlin pulls down the long dirt road leading to Camp Champ.
The
air is cooler under the canopy of trees, but the bright rays of sunshine still
manage to cut through the branches and warm my skin. I take a deep breath,
letting the smell of pine trees and the sugary scent of bug juice, Champ’s
version of Gatorade, wash over me.
Summer
camp.
The
parking lot is swarming with campers of all ages, and I can’t help but feel a
flutter of excitement. I’ve missed this place.
“Okay.”
Kaitlin turns in her seat after parking, a serious look on her face. “I know
you’d rather be home trying to salvage your parents’ marriage—in your own
special way—but it’s only eight weeks. They’re going to be fine.” Kaitlin gives
me a reassuring smile, and I wish I could believe her. “Try to have fun, and
stay out of trouble, unless, of course, you’re getting in trouble with
Todd-the-bod’s abs, then by all means.” Kat wags her eyebrows, laughing.
I
reach over the center console and give her a huge hug. “You’re the best.”
“No,
you are,” Kat says, hugging me tighter. “Write me every day, deal?”
“Deal,”
I say, despite having no intention of staying at camp long enough to have
anything to write home about.
I
sling my duffle bag over my shoulder and wave as Kaitlin whips out of the
parking lot and back down the old logging road, kicking up dirt in her wake.
“Omg!
You’re here,” a girl squeals, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and hugging
me with the strength it takes to lead a horse. But what else would I expect from
a blue ribbon Equestrian?
I
toss my arms around her and hug her back. “I’m excited to see you, too,” I say,
laughing at my junior counselor from last year, and my closest friend at camp,
Lucy Emmerson.
“I
heard you had some kind of family emergency and you almost couldn’t come this
year. Is everything okay?” She pulls away, concern written all over her face.
Taking
me in, her concern disappears as quickly as it came. “Let me guess,” she
laughs, tugging on the ends of my bright red hair, “the family emergency was
your parents nearly killing you over your hair?”
“Something
like that.” I smile, looping my arm through hers and walking towards the
welcome tables, set up at the edge of the wide grass field next to the central
office and dining hall, to check in. “So? What’s new with you? Tell me
everything.”
“Okay,
don’t freak,” she says quickly, like she’s yanking off a band-aid.
I
pull up short so I can turn and face her. “Not the best way to start a sentence
if you don’t want someone to freak.”
She
presses her lips together before blurting out, “I’m not your counselor this
year.”
“What
do you mean?” I ask in disbelief. “We’ve been in the same cabin since we were
eleven, well, since I was eleven and you were twelve, but same diff.” I drop my
duffle to the ground. “That was our plan. You were going to be head counselor
and I was going to be your junior counselor. What happened?”
“Don’t
be mad.”
I
want to tell her I’m not mad. I’m sad. She’s one of the reasons I love camp so
much, and the only reason I signed up to be a junior counselor for the entire
summer. Mom’s speech about ‘honoring my commitments’ twists my stomach.
“I’m
not mad, I just don’t get it. Why didn’t they put us together? I mean, we’re
‘Em & Ems.’ Everyone knows that.”
Lucy
laughs at our camp nickname—the first two letters of my name combined with the
first two letters of her last name—which is usually reserved for couples, a la
‘Brangelina,’ but since we’re practically inseparable every summer, the
couple-name-mash up ‘Em & Ems’ stuck.
“Are
you crazy? We’ll always be Em & Ems!” Lucy says, throwing her arms around
my neck and giving me another hug. “But the truth is…I requested to be moved to
the elementary aged kids since I decided to major in early education.”
She
declared a major? But she just finished freshman year. I bite my nail, thankful
I have at least a year to decide, since I’m not even sure what I want to do for
the rest of today, let alone what I want to do with the rest of my life.
“Are
you sure you’re not mad?” Lucy asks as the excitement about her future is
replaced with worry again.
I
pull my fingers away from my mouth and offer her a reassuring grin. “I’m not
mad, I swear. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks,
Em. And don’t worry, we’ll still get to see each other since you’ll be able to
come to the counselor’s campfires now that you’re a junior counselor. But
listen, I need to get back to my cabin to greet the little munchkins, so go
check in and get settled, and I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“’kay,”
I say, smiling, despite my disappointment that I’m going to be stuck with some
total random as my senior counselor now.
And
unfortunately, after getting checked in, it doesn’t take long to find out
exactly who that random will be.
When
I reach the front steps of cabin number eight a high pitched voice screeches
through the screen door, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Great.
Jenny Osborne.
I
brace myself for the inevitable, over the top fake welcome I know I’m about to
receive. It’s her signature move, besides gossiping about you once you leave
the room.
“O.M.G!
Emily!” Jenny rushes towards me as I step into the cabin. She snatches up my
hands and begins to jump up and down, squealing. “I’m so excited you’re finally
here, slowpoke. Get on your suit, and hurry, everyone is down at the lake.” She
tosses her long blond hair over her shoulder, eyeing my hair, and then grabs
her towel from her bed. “See ya there.”
The
screen door shuts behind her with a bang and just as predicted Jenny’s voice
echoes through the surrounding forest like she’s purposely trying to make sure
I hear her. Which I’m pretty sure she is. “Nice hair.”
I
roll my eyes. This is going to be one long summer…that is, if I was planning on
sticking around.
I
dig in my duffle bag until I find my favorite bikini, the white one with the
red strings, and slip it on. Snatching up my towel, sunscreen, and sunglasses I
make my way to the lake. I might as well have fun for the short amount of time
I’ll be stuck here.
The
shore is packed with the younger campers splashing around in the shallow water
while Jenny, and the rest of the high school aged campers, are gathered at the
very end of the dock.
“Hey,
sexy,” a guy says way too loudly in my ear from behind, wrappings his arms
around my bare torso. My stomach flips as I flash back to the way the word
‘sexy’ rolled off Tyler’s tongue last night, but I can tell this is no Tyler.
His arms are too bulky, and his breath smells like Slim Jims. Todd-the-bod.