Camp, page 4
“Oh, so he just wouldn’t get the hint,” Ashleigh says. “So finally I just grabbed my closest straight friend and said, ‘Can we just make out in front of him until he goes away?’ and she was like, ‘okay,’ and so next time he came over to bother me, I started making out with her and he was all offended! He said, ‘You should have said something.’ As if repeatedly telling him I was a demisexual lesbian wasn’t enough? Then he called us dykes and ranted about me on Instagram—but at least he stopped asking me out.”
“Yeah, that’s funny,” George says, throwing me a look. We both know a story about her making out with a straight girl is probably not something that just came up. “But, Ashleigh, we have to go back to our cabin—remember what we talked about?”
Ashleigh frowns, knowing we have nothing to go back to.
“Remember?” I say. “You made us promise.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Sorry, Janice, I’d better get back.”
“That’s okay. See you later.”
“Later,” Ashleigh says as we get up. We all start walking back to the other side of the pool. I’m about to jump in and rejoin Hudson, but Ashleigh tugs on my arm. “We said we were going back to the cabin. She’ll know I’m avoiding her if we don’t.”
“Right,” I say with a sigh. I catch Hudson’s eye and frown and shrug, letting myself be dragged away by Ashleigh. He waves at me, a sad look on his face.
We trudge back up to the cabin, Ashleigh frowning. “Sorry,” she says. “Sorry, sorry. I know I said I wasn’t going to do it, but, like, there aren’t many girls here I really click with enough to want to…”
“Darling, you’re at a queer camp. Have you tried clicking with the other girls?”
“Well…,” she says. “Daphne, two years ago.”
“She’s gone,” I say. No campers over eighteen allowed. Everyone keeps in touch—we just don’t see them during the summer anymore. It’s kind of sad, but then we hear stories about them going off to college and living every day like it’s camp, and it’s more like they’ve escaped than they’ve left.
“I know, but, like, I need to know someone, really like them, before I want to… you know. I don’t just think ‘she’s hot’ about some girl and then try to go after her. And it feels like no one wants to get to know me.”
“That’s idiotic,” George says.
“Hard agree,” I say. “Not everyone is demisexual. Plenty of the girls want to get to know you.”
Ashleigh laughs. “Yeah, but then what if I don’t like them?”
“Then walk away,” George says. “But promise me you’ll talk to someone besides the straight girl this summer?”
“Yeah,” Ashleigh says as we reach our cabin. “Yeah, thanks, guys.”
“What was going on with you and Brad?” I ask George as we hop in the showers. The bathroom has four sinks and six showers, each with their own stall and towel hook so no one can see us naked, but we can still talk. We shout over the water.
“That sort of thing has been happening a lot lately,” George calls back. “I got hairy, now everybody is into me all of a sudden. The boys at school barely noticed me before; now I’ve slept with three of them.”
“You’ve had sex?” I ask, happy he can’t see me blushing red in the shower. I have not. I mean, made out, sure, and it’s not like I don’t know how it feels when another guy’s body is against yours and he’s horny. Two summers ago, Carter Monroe kind of implied he wanted to get naked with me after we spent some time making out, but I want my first time to be special. And with Hudson.
“Mmm-hm,” George answers.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ashleigh asks.
“It didn’t seem like that big a deal,” George says. “I’m from Manhattan, darlings. Sex is just something you do sometimes.”
I blush again and force myself to laugh.
“Oh, don’t try that jaded act with us,” Ashleigh says. “We know you. You’re supposed to tell us this stuff.”
“I guess…,” George says, his voice a little hard to hear under the water. I finish washing and turn the faucet off, then start drying myself with my towel. “Look,” he says, “it was… embarrassing. Like, suddenly I look more adult and people want me and I jump into bed with the first of them who offers? I didn’t want you guys to think I was a slut.”
“Why would we think that?” I ask, wrapping my towel around my waist.
“Well, you’re holding out for Hudson, and Ashleigh is only into girls if she has a real bond with them, and here I am, screwing a guy whose last name I don’t remember.”
“Was it fun?” Ashleigh asks.
“A little,” George says, turning the water off. “The first time was awkward. But then it was fun. Lots of fun. Highly recommended.”
Ashleigh and I both laugh.
“I don’t think you’re a slut,” I say, doing my hair in the mirror. Styling it to look like I don’t care how it looks is very difficult.
“Me neither,” Ashleigh says, coming out of the stall, already dressed in denim cutoffs and a black tank top. She runs her hands through her hair, then heads back into the main cabin.
“Thank you, darlings. But remember, if anyone cute asks, I’m a complete whore.” He pushes open his shower curtain and steps out, his huge pink towel wrapped around his chest and still almost hitting the floor.
“How about Brad?” I ask.
“Maybe,” George says, tilting his head and shaking a can of hairspray in front of the mirror. “He’s cute. But it’s only the first day.”
I finish in the mirror and go back into the cabin to get out one of the pre-selected masc-enough outfits, this one a white T-shirt and blue shorts, then come back to the bathroom, hop into the stall, and change. When I step out, George is scrunching his hair, and Ashleigh is back, applying dark lipstick in the mirror.
“So,” I say. “After dinner, can you show me the tree? Make sure Hudson is following us—but at a distance.”
“How are you going to arrange that?” Ashleigh asks.
“I think if we all eat with them, and then after, as we’re leaving, you pull me aside or something and you’re like, ‘We need to show you something,’ and head toward the obstacle course, he’ll follow.”
“He’ll follow without being seen?” George asks. “I’m as much for wacky hijinks as the next homo, but this feels like a stretch.”
“It doesn’t really matter if he follows us—he just has to know we went off to see it. But if he does follow, then I can talk about how I’d never be just another conquest for a man like that,” I say, putting my hand to my chest and looking like a Victorian woman who’s just been offended.
“Maybe not like that if you want to keep this charade up,” George says.
Ashleigh snorts a laugh.
“I just need a reason to be cold to him,” I say. “Make it clear I want a real relationship.”
“And what makes you think he won’t just move on to an easier guy?” George asks.
“Who else fits his profile?” I ask. “Who he hasn’t already taken to the Peanut Butter Pit, I mean.”
“There might be some new guys,” Ashleigh says.
“Or who knows, maybe he’ll repeat.”
“We have a connection,” I say. “He’s already made his move. He’s not looking at anyone else, and he likes a challenge. He might fake the long-term-relationship-guy thing at first, but he’ll take it slow. And slow is all I need to make him really fall in love.”
George shoots a glance at Ashleigh in the mirror. They both have the “our friend is nuts” look on their faces. Behind us, the other campers start to come in. Jordan walks in just as George and Ashleigh are looking at each other and giggles.
“Maybe you could tell Brad, too,” I say to George. “Let him know I’m a romantic, not just another mark on the tree, and Hudson will have to really woo me. Y’know, since my head injury.”
George rolls his eyes. “Well, I do like a bigger role,” he says. “Though I usually prefer comedies to outright farce.”
“Did you hurt your head?” Jordan asks, hopping in the shower.
“No,” I reply quickly.
“It’s just part of the plan, darling!”
“The romance plan?” Jordan asks, sticking their head out of the shower. They have very short blunt bangs and the rest of their head is nearly shaved, giving their face a very punk vibe, which always amuses me, because Jordan is a giant softie who has seen every romantic comedy movie ever, multiple times. “I LOVE the plan! It’s like Pillow Talk!” They pop back into the shower. “Or How to Marry a Millionaire, what with the planning. How to marry a masc-ulaire!” They giggle.
“Everyone knows?” I ask George and Ashleigh.
“The cabin does.” Ashleigh shrugs. “Did you think no one would notice? Or figure it out?”
I laugh. “Okay. That doesn’t matter, because it’ll be great,” I say. “It will work great.” I hope. I’ve turned over all the ways to do this during the course of the year. Getting Hudson’s attention was straightforward, but holding it for longer than two weeks is the hard part. But this should work. Not just saying I’m an LTR kind of guy, but making myself a challenge for him. He’s never had one of those before, not really, but everyone knows how competitive he is. Always has to be on the winning team in capture the flag. Always has to run through the obstacle course the fastest. Well, he wouldn’t give up on a guy he liked, right? Just another challenge. And a challenge means time, time together, which leads to us falling in love. It’s a solid plan, or so I tell myself as George and Ashleigh exchange another look and George goes to change. Definitely not a plan I got watching too many old romantic comedies.
“So I have to be the bad guy, then?” Ashleigh says, crossing her arms and leaning against the bathroom wall. “Lead you to the tree, warn you of Hudson’s manizing ways?”
“Yeah, if that’s okay.”
“I’m not an actor, you know. I’m a techie.”
“No acting required,” I say. “You clearly think this is a bad idea.”
“Look,” she says, walking back into the cabin, where George has slipped on a bright green satin robe with big flowing sleeves, embroidered with blue carnations. I have a matching purple one with gold-and-white lilies—we both bought them at the same time when I found the link online and sent it to him two years ago, between summers, and brought them last year. But I left mine at home this summer. “It’s not that I don’t want you to get with him, if you think that’ll make you happy. It’s just… this whole plan. Pretending to be someone else. Where does it end?”
“We fall in love,” I say, following her.
“And then what?” she asks. “You keep being Del the rest of your life?”
I shrug. “Once we’re in love, I’ll gradually turn back into Randy.”
“The guy he didn’t fall in love with,” Ashleigh says. “You see where I’m confused? This script is all over the place.”
“It’s all about how you play it,” I say. “Besides, what’s the worst that happens? I don’t get the guy?” Please let that not happen. Please, please, please. I force myself to smile. “Then all this will be over, and you won’t have anything to worry about.”
“Except your broken heart,” she says.
“Well, then you can say you told me so.” Please oh please let her not have a reason to tell me she told me so.
“Darlings, let’s not fight. Randy has a plan, and he’s asking us to help, and if it all goes sideways, then at least it will be a story to tell people, right? It’s only love, no need to take it so seriously.”
“Right,” I say, but I’m holding my smile so tightly, my jaw aches.
“Fine, fine,” Ashleigh says. “I just want it on record that I don’t see this ending well, and I don’t like you changing who you are just for some guy. You can find a guy who loves you for you.”
“But they won’t be Hudson,” I say. “If you just had to change your wardrobe a little to make Janice fall for you, would you?”
Ashleigh climbs into her bed. “Yeah, okay, I get it,” she says.
Mark walks in just as she finishes talking. “What?” he asks. “Pool time too boring for you? Too much gossip you didn’t want the camp to hear?”
“Something like that,” George says, plucking a sandalwood fan from under his pillow and opening it. “Plus my hair needs time to air-dry before dinner.”
“Well, at least that’s a decent excuse,” Mark says, going into the counselor’s room (we’ve seen inside; it’s miniscule, with two twin beds and a nightstand, but I guess counselors have earned a little more privacy). “Dinner is at six, so be dressed by then.”
A moment later, the other campers start coming in, showering off and changing into their dinner best. Even George, after his hair is dry enough, changes into a purple T-shirt with a picture of Ariana Grande as the Virgin Mary on it and a pair of very short black shorts. Someone puts on the Bye Bye Birdie soundtrack and everyone sings along, practicing for their auditions tomorrow. I smile and listen and sometimes sing along, even though tomorrow will be very different for me.
FIVE
LAST SUMMER
He is so pretty,” I say again, lying in the grass and watching Hudson run across the green. It’s capture the flag during color wars, and George, Montgomery, and I have gotten ourselves captured so we can sit on the sidelines and watch. Montgomery is in green cutoffs, so short you can see his ass from the bottom, and a black crop top. George and I didn’t want to recycle our outfits, so we’re in pink and purple, respectively—but our nails are painted green, and conveniently the silk fan I brought from home is a pretty chartreuse, so I’ve been carrying it around in my back pocket, and now I’m fanning myself with it. Hudson has his shirt off and he gleams with sweat as he runs across the soccer field. I might be drooling a little. But the fan covers it.
“Darling, you have got to get over this crush,” George says. “Or come up with a plan for getting his attention.”
“I’m working on it, sweetie,” I say. “I have some ideas.” I pluck a stray daisy and tuck it behind my ear.
“Oh, really?” Montgomery asks. “Like what?”
“Like I just have to make him want to talk to me,” I say, tucking another daisy behind the other ear. “If I can make him feel half as good as he makes me feel, just by talking, I know he won’t want to give that up after two weeks.”
Suddenly, as if he can hear us talking, Hudson runs over to us. George and I exchange a worried look, but he taps us each on the shoulder, and then runs back to his side. He looks behind him and grins a big goofy smile.
“C’mon, dudes!” he shouts. “I freed you!”
The three of us shrug, then stand up and run over back to his side of the line. I tuck my hair behind my ears and wait next to Hudson, who’s smiling at us.
“So, no thank-you?” he says.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Darling, it was a waste of a trip,” George says. “We’re useless at this game.”
“Nah,” Hudson says, looking right at me. “I know you’ll be good at it. Just give it a try.” I smile back at him, this stupid, doofy smile, because I can feel this warmth in my chest, this feeling like when I did a tequila shot that one time, and I feel looser and stronger. No one has ever believed I could be good at anything athletic. I’m a theater kid, a sissy, I can barely throw a ball. Even my dad said maybe it “wasn’t our thing” the first time we tried playing catch in the backyard and the neighbors snickered at us. And Hudson can see all that. He can see my painted nails and loose wrists, and he can still believe I’d be good at it if I tried.
And then he runs off. I turn to George.
“See?” I say. “He’s divine.”
Montgomery watches Hudson running. “He’s got a great ass, at least,” he says, folding his arms.
“I’m going to go for the flag,” I say, slapping my fan closed and tucking it in my back pocket. “Cover me?”
“What?” George says.
“Are you nuts?” Montgomery asks, but I’m across the line into enemy territory before I have time to answer, dodging the other campers as they try to tag me, going for the bright orange flag on top of the hill on their side of the camp. And suddenly I realize I CAN do it. I can do whatever I want, really, and I’m close to the hill and I can see Hudson ahead of me, too, and I get close, like we’re going to do this together, we’re going to steal this flag as a duo, and he looks over and flashes me that smile.
And I trip. Fall on my face. Someone tags me right away, but Hudson manages to steal the flag, and he’s running with it before someone tags him, too. He walks into jail and sits on the grass next to me, grinning, sweat pouring off him. He smells like dirt and the sun.
“Thanks for that distraction, bro,” he says, raising his fist. I realize I’m supposed to bump it, and do, though it feels forced and stupid.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I did that on purpose.”
“You were really going out there,” he says, and I can’t tell if he believes my lie. “I told you you’d be good at it if you tried.”
“I guess so,” I say.
He grabs some grass out of the ground in a handful, then puts it back down, patting it into the earth. “You know,” he says. “We don’t have to be whatever they say we are. We can be athletes and superheroes. We can be strong and fast and kick ass. We just have to put our fingers in our ears and stop listening to them, and just let ourselves want to be those things. Want to be greater. Then we can be anything.”
“Yeah,” I say, and I feel that warm feeling inside me again, like stars. I wonder if he can sense it. I wonder how I can make him feel this way.
“Come on, losers,” Ashleigh says, walking up to us slowly, like she doesn’t care, and tagging us each on the shoulder. Ashleigh actually loves capture the flag but says she prefers to be a “spy”—make them think she doesn’t care about playing, sidle up to the flag, stuff it in her pocket, and just walk back. It’s never worked, but she says one day it will.
“See you later, man,” Hudson says, running back to our side before launching himself at the enemy’s flag again.
