The trees blurred by as my VW bug whined it's way around another switchback. Mid-June and it's already getting hot. Rounding a corner too close, the car kicked up red dust as I steered it past the new Camp Wininoka sign overhead.
Wininoka, probably some faked American Indian name, had just opened two summers ago. Needing a change from the place I'd been working, I immediately put my name on the summer staff waiting list. I got lucky and managed to work the last month of the season last year in the camp kitchen. When another girl decided to stay home for the summer, I got a letter right after freshman english finals, asking me back. I just had enough time to pack, change plans and hit the road for California.
But I was late. Real late.
My car skidded to a halt cantered left in one of the dirt parking spots. Dozens of cars were already here and no one else was in the parking lot. I jerked the keys out of the ignition, kicked the door open and grabbed my pack. The staff meeting had started over an hour ago. I ran.
The mess hall was the center of daily camp life. At least three activities, breakfast, lunch and dinner happened here every day. Sometimes sing-a-longs or movies at night, weather depending. I ran around the backside and entered through the kitchen. The director was a real stickler for rules - don't be late to meetings, don't stay out after lights-out, don't be late from a weekend. Yadda, yadda, yadda - Jesus, that guy could babble on. A couple of big pots simmered on the huge stoves in the center of the room, but the staff was absent. I turned off the lights and pushed the swinging door open slowly.
"Topeka, get your ass over here!"
Shit. Dan had seen me. Everyone turned around and looked in my direction.
"You're fucking late as usual, Topeka. Find a seat if you can manage it."
Everyone chuckled at that, recalling my difficulties with a prickly pear cactus meeting my backside last year. Fuck, what a start.
I walked around the group seated on tables and benches surrounding the mighty Dan Reynolds, Wininoka's camp director. He's the one who hired me last summer and I was grateful for it, but he could be a real son-of-a-bitch when things didn't go his way. Dan'd been put in charge of Wininoka when it opened. He'd been living and working in the local mountains pretty much his whole life. Marilyn, my best friend and cabinmate here, told me that he was fifty-five, but it was hard to believe since he was in such good shape, tanned and still had a full head of hair. I guess I always thought men who were in their fifties should look more like my dad, bald, fat around the middle and wheezing whenever they climbed stairs.
Marilyn and I had met last year during my short stay here - she working the waterfront, teaching canoeing and me slopping grits and pancakes in the kitchen. I liked her the moment I saw her. Always somewhere near the center of attention, but difficult to spot. She had this elfin stature and as a result, got lost in crowds easily. But she also had this wonderful way about her as though she was always up to something; something she shouldn't be doing and I loved her for it. She was sitting on a table near the side and waved me over to a spot. She smiled, putting her arm around me.
"Welcome to Camp Willy-Cock-a," she whispered in my ear - her pet name for this forested paradise near the lake. I smiled and we exchanged hello kisses.
Dan approached. "Topeka, you've missed all the fun part of my talk, but you can read it all in the Camp manual. Here." Dan roughly plopped a huge notebook in my lap. Damn, I had to read all this?
"Okay, listen up. Last year, I think you all recall a certain problem that occurred in the second month here at camp." Dan was in his element now, telling us what to do and what not to do. "A female counselor had to go home because of 'family' business. Remember?"
I hadn't been here then, so I looked at Marilyn with a "what the fuck is he talking about" gawk. She rolled her eyes, putting her lips to my ear.
"A girl got knocked up and had to go home. It caused a lot of problems for Dan. Parents got bent out of shape - almost sued the camp."
My mouth dropped open and I stared at her.
"You got some secrets to share, Sacramento?" Dan looked at Marilyn with his lips thinly drawn. Dan had this thing for calling all the girls by the place they came from. Funny, how he never did it with the boys.
"No, Dan. Sorry, go ahead." Marilyn put on her perky counselor demeanor and waved.
"There will be no funny business at camp this summer! Got me?" Dan stared hard at everyone there. I looked around at the rest of the group to see the reaction.
"Got me, Topeka?"
Shit, just because I looked around… "Sure, Dan. No funny business."
"This means you girls do not drive the boys insane. And you boys do not encourage the girls to do so. Do you all understand me?"
"Yes, Director Dan." Everyone responded together in moments like this and called Dan by his formal title. To me, though, it always sounded like a character from Sesame Street.
"Good, good. Now, all the men, if you cannot resist having sex with some unsuspecting female while you are working for me…" Lots of girly giggles hit the air. "Girls, I know I don't have to worry about you because you know these guys for what they are…lying, cheating, good-for-nothings who don't have a dime of security between them." Several guys groaned.
Dan smiled. "But there are women in the local towns who don't know them like you and I do, so…" Dan whipped out a condom and held it up in the air. Everyone started laughing. "You must wear a raincoat, if you are going to get wet. Do you understand me?"
"Yes Director Dan," said all the men.
"Good, we understand each other. If you get some poor unsuspecting girl in trouble, I get in trouble. And if I get in trouble…"
"We get in trouble," said the men.
I heard a deep chuckle. I looked up to see a gleaming set of teeth smiling above an amazing set of pecs stretching a t-shirt to its limits. Green eyes, deep tan and tousled black hair told me this was Johnny Winston, the head swimming counselor. My eyes traveled down to his ass. My God what a butt this guy had. I breathed out deeply, looking at his tight shorts, then shook my head, realizing I was staring.
"Right. Now then, girls stay, men leave. Go. Now fellas." Slowly, the boys got up and sauntered out the screen-covered side doors towards their cabins. I watched Johnny, laughing with a couple of friends and made a few mental notes about his walk.
"Okay, okay, girls - listen up." Yeah, Dan was an older man, but I really didn't like the way he always referred to us as 'girls' and the boys as 'men.' Kinda pissed me off. I wondered if he'd always been a misogynist.
Dan held up a clipboard. "This clipboard contains a list of every female counselor who will be working here this season. Next to your name, I want you to put an 'X' if you are on birth control, and an"O", if…"
One of the girls from crafts stood up. "You can't require us to tell you that. It's personal."
Dan hugged the clipboard to his chest and smiled. "Boston, I can require whatever I like. I'm your employer. This list is not for public consumption. I need it to know who to keep an eye on. If you don't like this new policy, you all know where the door is located."
Grimacing, Boston sat back down. We all knew that there was a waiting list of girls who would gladly take our place.
"I have the clipboard up here. Please come up and make an 'X' for yes and an "O" for no next to your name. If you want to talk to me in private about this, I will be in my office the rest of the afternoon 'til supper. Thank you." Everyone got up. Most got in line to mark the list. I stood behind Marilyn.
"Did you see Newport?" whispered Marilyn over her shoulder using the familiar city of Johnny's hometown.
"Oh yeah. I did."
"I have goosebumps. Look."
Sure enough, Marilyn held out her arm and the little bits of gooseflesh danced up and down her skin. I didn't mention where Johnny had affected me.
I got to the front of the line and put an "X" by my name. I looked up as I stepped out, but Dan ignored me.
Marilyn got our cabin keys from the Quartermaster and we grabbed our stuff from our cars. The pine scent filled the air along with the dust of the dirt trails, which connected everything throughout the camp. Faintly, as we got closer to the girl counselor cabins, we could hear the falls roaring in the distance.
I breathed in deep and looked at the robins flying across the clearing in front of us. "I missed this place. It's just so cool being up here. It feels kind of like home - a second home."
"Really? I always thought of it as more of a place away from home - a place where the rules don't apply so much. Know what I mean?"
I knew that look in her eye. Something was up. Marilyn has always been what my mom would call a "free spirit," ready to try anything once or twice. My upbringing had kept me away from any shenanigans. Well, except for the occasional beer. But in the sex department, I had been strictly a solo act, playing what I might try to do someday in my head a thousand times over. My fingers had taken my virginity years before, but I'd never gotten up the courage to convince a guy to…well, you know…do it. Marilyn was keenly aware of my track record.
I put my key in the lock and jerked the door open. The cabin opened to a musty stale smell wafting through the air. A long time ago these little wooden houses had been carpeted and cleaned, but not for a couple of weeks. And worse, they'd been kept closed.
"Yuck. Quick, help me get all the shutters open." Marilyn and I slid all the wooden boards open to reveal mosquito screen behind them to let the fresh air in.
After a half-hour of dusting and cleaning the carpet to help make the place livable, we loaded our stuff inside and started to unpack. The cabins were wooden with tarpaper roofs, slanted to the back for rain when it came. Surrounding two old army surplus metal twin beds were windows looking out at the woods away from the counselor area center. We each had a metal dresser with mirror. Think rustic…no, think cheap.
The counselor residences were arranged in a semi-circle surrounding two buildings in the center of the clearing. One contained showers, bathrooms and the washer-dryer, the other was for the weekly visiting directors of the various groups that stayed at Wininoka.
As I finished sorting all my clothes into the dresser, Marilyn started unpacking her footlocker.
"What plans do you have for the summer, Stace?" Stacie was my real name. Only Marilyn and I called each other by our actual names. Everyone else was named after their city, well, except for Newport. We talked about him often enough; we just used his city as a kind of code name.
