But seriously, what the hell did Janelle do wrong? Besides hooking up with a guy she thought was hot and getting intimate in her own way? He doesn’t even have a girlfriend!
“Why is he allowed to do whatever he wants but she’s the one everyone is whispering about?” I ask.
Talia laughs. “Because he’s Lawrence and she’s a weirdo.”
I help myself to a second piece of lasagna. “So if he was a weirdo, and she was . . . Allie, then everyone would be whispering about Lawrence?”
“If Lawrence pleasured himself in front of Allie with a brush, then yes.”
“Are you kidding me? Guys always have their hands down their pants,” I say. “Look at Bunk Two! Five guys have their hands down their pants right now! And we’re at a meal! We’re literally eating and boys everywhere have their hands down their pants right in the Dining Hall!”
Talia just laughs. “At least they’re not eating with their hands.”
Three boys from Bunk 2 pick up pieces of French bread. With their hands. Oops, make that four. Oh, wow, all five.
I turn to Talia and eye her meaningfully.
After the meal, Botts taps the microphone to get everyone’s attention.
“I hope everyone enjoyed their lasagna!” he says. “Do you want to hear what tonight’s activity is?”
Everyone cheers.
“It’s Ugly Counselor Night!”
Everyone cheers louder.
“What does that even mean?” I ask.
“It means the kids dress one counselor from every bunk up really ugly,” Talia says. “Guess who we’re dressing up?”
“Don’t choose Janelle,” I say.
“Why not? It’s just a game. And she’ll love it. Do you want to do it?”
Part of me wants to be a good sport and save Janelle, but I’ve been where she is, and I never want to be there again. I cannot be there again. I can’t take a chance that anyone would be laughing at me instead of with me.
Janelle is still clueless.
At Free Play, the girls dress her in rain boots and a yellow feather boa that comes from who knows where, and tease her hair and cover her face in clown makeup, giggling the whole time.
After Eric calls the activity, they lead her to the Rec Hall by the hand, while giggling hysterically. Every bunk has one poor counselor dressed up.
The whole camp is in the Rec Hall for the activity. All the Ugly Counselors wait backstage while the kids get settled.
The lights flash on and off. Here we go.
Dance music comes on, and Josh takes the microphone.
“Welcome to Ugly Counselor!” he calls out. “Who will be the ugliest of the ugliest?”
Everyone cheers.
The junior boy bunks go up first. Muffs’s face is painted purple and he is wearing a raincoat and a plunger on his head, which does not seem hygienic at all.
Danish laughs next to me on the bench.
Janelle is next.
“Next up, we have Janelle from Bunk Six!”
My girls all cheer.
Janelle prances across the stage and shimmies.
The rest of the campers start cheering as well, getting louder and louder.
“Use your brush!” I hear.
I freeze. Shit.
There are laughs throughout the senior boy section. Lawrence’s bunk.
His campers know too?
“Use your brush!” someone else calls out, and suddenly the entire back section is chanting, “Use your brush! Use your brush!”
No, no, no.
What do I do? I have to stop it. This is the worst. The worst. They could easily be chanting Porny.
I touch Danish’s arm.
Onstage, Janelle seems oblivious to the chanting. Or maybe she can’t hear over the loud music.
“We have to stop them,” I say. “The boys.”
She listens. “What are they saying?”
“They’re telling her to use her brush.”
Danish looks at Janelle and then back at me. “I don’t get it. Because her hair is messy?”
“No,” I say, putting my head down. “Because she apparently masturbated with it in front of Lawrence.”
Danish closes her eyes, looking pained. “Shit,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“And he told everyone.”
“Yeah.”
“What a fucking asshole,” she says.
I have never heard her swear, ever.
“She doesn’t know that everyone knows?” she asks.
“No,” I say.
The chanting continues. “Use your brush! Use your brush!”
“Dammit,” Danish says. She motions to Josh to move it along.
“Thank you, Janelle!” he says. “Next up, we have Bunk Five!”
Danish goes to the back of the room and I see her whispering to Priya and Botts.
“What did you say?” I ask when she comes back.
“I told them what was going on. And told him to threaten their staff that they would all be zapped with OD if any of their campers uttered anything about a damn brush again.”
The show continues. After all the counselors have their turn, they return onstage. Josh calls them out one at a time and asks for applause.
I hold my breath for Janelle. There is a lot of applause. And a lot of laughing. She turns around and shakes her butt, totally obliviously. Everyone whoops and hollers.
“Crap,” Danish says.
“At least they’re not saying anything about a brush,” I whisper back.
No one else gets as much applause as Janelle, so she is declared the winner.
“Are you going to tell her?” I ask Danish when the event is over and the kids are sent to Milk and Cookies.
She nods. “I would want to know. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” I say. I would.
Danish motions for Janelle and the two of them head out of the side door. I take a deep breath and follow my kids to the Dining Hall.
Janelle and Danish don’t return to the bunk until after curfew. Lis and Talia are in the bathroom so it’s just me in the counselors’ room.
Janelle’s eyes are red, like she’s been crying. She’s still wearing her Ugly Counselor makeup, outfit, and teased hair. She sits on her bed and leans her head back against the wall.
“You okay?” I ask. I debate putting my hand on her shoulder but I leave it on my lap.
She shrugs but then shakes her head no. “I’m embarrassed. And mad. This place is . . . fucked up,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say. “It really is.”
She looks me dead in the eye. “I wish you would have told me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“Who told you?” she asks. “Talia?”
I nod.
She sighs. “I’m not sure why she and Lis dislike me so much.”
I don’t respond. It’s hard to explain to someone that they’re just different.
“Was what I did so wrong?” she asks.
“No, of course not. He’s the wrong one,” I say. “He’s a jerk.”
“I just didn’t expect him to . . . tell people.” Her eyes tear up. “I’m a moron.”
“You are not! There is nothing wrong with trusting someone.”
“Clearly there is,” she says.