I laugh. “Be good.”
“I’m just putting it in context. But from now on, polite conversation only,” he says.
“Thank you. We are behaving ourselves,” I say.
“But your eyes are really pretty,” he says. “I meant that.”
“Blue ribbon it is,” I say.
Ten minutes later, we march the kids to Upper Field for opening ceremonies.
Once everyone is there, each section competes in a tug-of-war and an egg toss. We win some, we lose some. We lose the staff tug-of-war. The yellow team has the Tank, the wrestling coach. He is not called the Tank for nothing.
We do the blue team chants and cheers again. Gavin and I scream in front of the campers at the top of our lungs.
“I am totally going to lose my voice,” I say.
“We’re light! We’re bright! We’re going to win this fight!” the yellow team yells.
“Yellow looks like pee!” one of the kids yells.
“We’re red! You’re dead!” the red team screams.
“Blue moon!” two of the senior boys from our team yell, and then pull down their sweatpants and moon everyone across from them.
The campers howl with laughter.
Crap. The judges are not going to like that.
“Ten points from the blue team!” Priya yells. “Keep your pants on, ladies and gentlemen!”
Fair enough.
Janelle offers to put two blue lines on our cheeks like we’re football players. I accept. Gavin passes.
“Too cool?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says.
“Not me!” I cry. “I’m all in.”
After the opening ceremonies are done, the kids are broken up by section. Junior girls have gaga ball, junior boys have soccer, inter girls have boating races, and so on and so on.
Gaga ball is basically dodgeball but played in a circular pit, and we check on them first. Blue team wins both games. Woot!
While the kids have more competitions throughout the day, Gavin and I run through the camp cheering them on and checking on the staff who are working on the big-ticket items like the song, skit, cheer, and dance. The song needs to be done by three o’clock so we can start teaching it to the kids. Last period is a team-wide practice.
Ours is pretty good—it’s to the tune of Lady Gaga—not to be confused with the game gaga—and Bradley Cooper’s song “Shallow.”
Basically the counselors just change the words so that it sounds like it’s about camp. We go into Bunk 10 to hear it.
Trevor takes out his guitar and starts strumming and singing all the lyrics about camp and summer and friendship and home.
“Great,” I say when he’s done. Hopefully it’ll do.
We go to visit Janelle next. Her cheer is actually adorable. It’s to the tune of “Blue Suede Shoes.”
“I got you, girl!” she says.
We check on the dance team and the skit team. The dance team hasn’t picked a song yet, and the skit team only has two lines so far, but they promise us that they’ll finish it by end of day.
By midnight, Gavin and I are giddy with exhaustion. We kicked ass all day. We both nailed the counselor hunt—I hid in a cupboard in the A&C and he hid behind the curtain in the Rec Hall. Every time a counselor got found, Eric announced it over the intercom like we were in the Hunger Games. Regular counselors were worth five points to whatever team caught them. Captains were worth twenty.
Neither Gavin or I got found.
“I think we’re in good shape,” he says when we’re outside my bunk. “The relay race is going to be hardcore.”
The relay race involves every camper and takes about two hours. It starts at the office, with three seniors, one per team, running across camp. Then the sticks are passed to teams of kids who do various relay activities like sort a bowl of Froot Loops by colors, make a bed, or canoe across the lake. Eventually, the last camper runs to the beach, where she hands the baton to the staff in charge of making the bonfire. When they get the baton, they start the fire. About five feet in the air, a rope stretches above each fire. The first fire to burn through the rope wins the relay race.
“I’m going to run the whole thing, with the kids,” he says.
“If you’re up for it,” I say.
“No problem,” he says.
“I’ll make sure everything is set,” I say. “So that’s it? Day one is done? Do you think we’re in the lead?”
“We’re definitely tied with yellow at least. Beating red for sure.”
“Good,” I say. “Good night, then.”
“You too. Sweet dreams.”
“When I say sweet, you say dreams. Sweet!”
“Dreams!”
“Sweet!”
“Dreams!”
“Omigod, we’re losing it,” I say.
“We really are. Blue!”
“Balls!” I say, and giggle my way up the porch and into my bunk.
Professional enough.
The next day, I’m walking up to the lookout to check on the five inter girls who are going to be making a human pyramid when my phone rings. I’ve been secretly carrying it around with me to snap some pictures, but had not expected it to work. Why is there no service hardly anywhere in camp, but there is service in the middle of the forest? Cell service, you so crazy.
The relay is supposed to start in five minutes.
It’s Eli.
“Hello!” I say.
“Hello, Beautiful!” he says. “I was starting to worry about you! Where are you?”
“Literally in the middle of a forest. Where are you?”
“Still Prague. But leaving for Switzerland today. I was going to leave you a message. I’m so happy to hear your voice instead.”
“I can only talk for a minute—it’s color war,” I say. “I’m captain!”
“You would love it here. It’s gorgeous. How are you? Your voice sounds weird. Are you sick?”
“No, just hoarse. Lots of cheering. It’s this crazy two days of competitions. Like the Olympics. I’m head of the blue team. Which is a big deal. So I haven’t slept in two days because we’re—I’m—running the whole thing. And the relay race starts in five minutes. So I have to check on the human pyramids.” I know I’m rambling, but I can’t stop. Once again, I am not mentioning Gavin! I’m running the whole thing? Really?
“I have no idea what you just said. Was that English?”
“Kind of.”
“Last night we—”
“Attention, all campers and counselors. Attention, all campers and counselors. The relay race begins in two minutes. Two minutes until the relay race begins.”
“I’m so so so sorry, I want to hear all about everything, but I really have to go,” I say.
He sighs. “Okay. Enjoy your game.”
The way he says game rubs me the wrong way. I’m not playing Jenga. “It’s not just a game, it’s my job.”
“What?”
“It’s my job! I’m working! I am sorry I can’t talk all the time! But I’m working!”
“It’s not a real job, Sam.”
My jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? I have SMALL CHILDREN who rely on me. I’m helping them through what for a lot of them is their first time ever away from home. There’s all kinds of social and emotional learning that goes on at camp, community building, team building—it’s not just a game, Eli.”