Nothing Happened Page 3

  “Screwed up the fucking,” I summarized. Claudia laughed.

  “Seriously!” Donald groaned quietly. “Why did my dad have to get that ingrate into Yale?”

  Donald and John’s dad was Josiah King, a New York senator. Their family was…complicated. Senator King had had an affair with John’s mom and kept it quiet, but the whole thing blew up when the guys were in middle school, for reasons I never totally grasped. Nobody could really believe when Senator King had called the Leonatos last summer about John working here. John was an okay guy and okay at his job—but he and Donald did not get along.

  Senator King had pulled strings to get Donald into Yale, too, but it probably wasn’t a good idea to bring that up right now.

  “Wait,” Claudia whispered. “How could John get in the way of you having sex? That doesn’t even make sense.” I didn’t voice aloud the image that question brought to mind.

  “Well, because Yale sucks,” Donald explained, like he was reviewing a pair of headphones online. “John and I were in the same dorm, on the same floor, so we knew a lot of the same people, went to the same parties.”

  “Right.” Donald’s college life sounded wildly different from mine. A month later, I was still recovering from finals and the one end-of-year party I had attempted to go to.

  “So in the first few weeks, I was hanging out with this girl, Joanna, and man, she was hot and cool,” Donald continued. “And we were so close, man. Like, so close. I got to third multiple times.”

  “Again, newsletter-worthy,” I interjected. I was trying to keep it light—Claudia was a little younger than us, and as far as I knew, she’d never hooked up with anyone before.

  “So we’re supposed to go to this party together, right?” Donald’s whisper became more of a hiss. “But she bails on me. And then the next night, she bails on me again. And then one of her friends tells one of my friends that Joanna told her that John told everyone that I’m a virgin!”

  Claudia and I took a beat to react.

  “Damn, Donald,” I observed.

  “But…aren’t you?” Claudia asked him, at the exact same time.

  “Yeah, but you don’t tell people that at college!” Donald smacked his forehead. “At college you get to start over. People ask you how many girls you’ve been with, and you say, ‘I don’t know, I lost count.’”

  “Smart.” Claudia nodded.

  I had to admit, I kind of wished I’d thought of that.

  “So he told her that I’m a virgin, and she didn’t want to be my first, so she ghosted me. Except that we kept bumping into each other in the bathroom and avoiding eye contact.”

  “What a jerk.”

  “Yeah, John’s the worst,” Donald said, glancing darkly over his shoulder.

  “I meant Joanna,” I said, lightly hitting his shoulder. “She didn’t have to ghost you just because you’d never had sex.”

  “Uh, what’s ghosting?” Claudia asked. “I’m getting some weird mental pictures right now.”

  “My only solace is that John’s clearly not getting laid either,” Donald said, completely ignoring both of us.

  “Clearly.” I yawned. “I’m going to get pancakes.”

  Just as I turned to go, Dam’s doors banged open, and in walked Bee and Hana with Margo between them.

  “Hey!” Bee called out. “Time to circle up!”

  All the counselors gathered in the middle of the room, dutifully forming a large, misshapen circle. I glanced longingly at the breakfast bar one more time before falling in line.

  Nik and Andy Leonato appeared at the head of the circle. Nik was our camp director. Technically Andy was the co-director, but Nik really ran the thing. She was short, tan, and intimidating, with an angular face and an impressive forehead. I used to be scared of her, and I still was a little bit, ’cause she was my boss. But I’d seen her soft side now too.

  Where Nik was little and pointy, Andy was towering and doughy. He had a ton of curly hair and an impressive brown beard. I think I’d seen him frown maybe once in my life. Put it all together with his love of Jell-O, and it was totally obvious why a lot of campers called him Santa. Andy was a school nurse during the year, and he ran the Dogberry first-aid building, Black Bear.

  “All right, kiddos!” Nik shouted. The hubbub died off immediately. “Welcome back to Dogberry, and welcome to our newest counselors—Dave, Doug, and Jen. As for you old-timers, it’s good to see all of you back this summer.”

  Donald nudged me. I winced.

  “We’re in for another year of hard work, and our session numbers, miraculously, look good. Your cabin and age assignments are on the green lists going around, and the orange paper is the training schedule for the week. CITs and activity leaders will be here this weekend, and the first session starts Monday. Everyone needs to get certified, or recertified, in first aid and CPR. And if you need lifeguard or swim certs…”

  Nik read off the list, and then Andy announced the activity leaders and assistants. Donald assisting in art, Margo in nature, and Bee in improv. We were the oldest counselors now. Totally weird.

  Even weirder that I’d somehow landed sports leader, with Claudia as my assistant. I mean, Nik had told me to apply, but still. Even back when I thought I’d work at Camp Dogberry forever, I never thought I’d get promoted to leader before anyone else.

  “…so now you have a few minutes to settle in,” Nik finished. “We’ll see you all in an hour at Monarch.”

  The games field. My office for the summer—so much better than my admin work-study job. I couldn’t wait. The circle broke up with a happy racket, and Nik and Andy sauntered over to us.

  “The mighty hath returned from war!” Andy clapped Donald and me on the back. “Glad you’re back from college in one piece. How’s Yale, Donald?”

  “Failing everything.”

  “That’s what we like to hear,” Nik said, then looked at me. “How’s BU, Ben?”

  She knew. She’d talked to my mom last week. But I appreciated her not mentioning that. “It’s good,” I said. “Not Yale, so I’m doing well.”

  “Excellent.” Nik nodded. “And it’s still a great school. Bee applied there.”

  “Really? Where did she—”

  “Claudia?” Andy leaned down and smiled at her.

  She startled. “Uhh, I’m not in college yet?”

  Andy smiled. “Great. Glad everyone’s on top of their educations.”

  “Nik, the first-year counselors look so young,” Donald whispered. “Are you sure they’re not campers?”

  “That’s a sign you’re getting old, Donald,” Nik chided, “when you see the fifteen-year-olds as babies.”

  Andy chuckled.

  Donald looked over his shoulder. “They are babies.”

  “Hana was a baby a second ago, and she’s taller than me now!” I offered. “And since when is her hair all curly, like Andy’s?”

  Nik laughed. “Well, she is his daughter. Or that’s what I told him, anyway.”

  Donald and Claudia cracked up. Nik grinned and kissed Andy’s cheek. He raised his eyebrows at me, and they both retreated into the kitchen.

  “I just meant,” I mumbled, “I haven’t seen her in a while, and it looks curlier now—”

  “Why’re you still talking, Ben?” Bee strolled over with Margo and Hana. “Nobody’s listening.”

  “I…uh…”

  “You know, Bee”—Donald leaned an elbow on her shoulder—“in some circles, Ben is actually smooth.”

  Everyone laughed. Thanks a lot, Donald.

  “He’s a city guy now,” he continued. Please shut up. “He’s got city game.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Bee turned back to me. “So…what? Did you get a city girlfriend?”

  “Well, no,” I sputtered. “I’m too busy studying.”

  “Oh, thank God.” Bee smiled. “I’m so relieved for all the girls in Boston.” Donald and Margo both laughed.

  “So you’ve got a boyfriend?” I asked, before I could stop my
self.

  “No,” she snorted. “I’d rather eat a handful of glass.”

  “Good!” Donald slung an arm around both of us. “So we’re all pathetic and single. Maybe we can change that this summer.”

  “Some more pathetic than others,” Bee singsonged, shooting a pointed look at me. “Some of us are actually single by choice.”

  “Whatever,” I sighed. “Can you cut it out, Bee? I’m already so over this.”

  The group went awkwardly silent. Everyone glanced at Bee, waiting for her witty reply.

  Bee’s face fell, but her expression quickly morphed into a scowl. “Whatever, Ben. If you’re over it, you shouldn’t have come back.”

  The silence was less awkward this time. More hushed. Was this actually happening? Yes, that night—well, really the next day—had been the worst, but did that really mean we were done? Forever? I kept waiting for her to laugh, to take it back. But she didn’t.

  “Well, too late now.” I grabbed my bag and headed over to the table to get my cabin assignment before anyone could notice how red my face was.

  I was living in Snowshoe this year. Cool. There was an electrical outlet under the counselor bunk in that one. That was good. Forget Bee. Things were looking up. I headed out the door, and Donald and Claudia caught up with me. Neither one said a word about the train wreck they just witnessed, which was merciful of them. We went down toward the waterfront, where the path split for the cabins. Donald snatched my cabin assignment right out of my hands.

  “Snowshoe. Nice. I’m in Coyote.”

  “Red Fox,” Claudia sighed. “I wish I was over with you guys.”

  I was grateful they weren’t bringing up what had just happened.

  “Margo’s in Moose,” Donald continued, examining the list. “And Hana and Bee have the usual.”

  Bee and Hana shared a cabin every year—Little Bat. It was the nicest cabin, with two secret outlets, and built-in bunk beds. Plus it was closest to the big house, the Leonatos’ year-round home, Big Bat. And the waterfront, Dam, and the nicest bathrooms.

  “Seriously?” I just felt angry at everything right now. “They get that every year. It’s total nepotism.”

  “Yeah.” Donald started to head out. “At least you’re not John. He’s in Otter again. Serves him right.”

  “Whatever, he’s a newer counselor,” I replied. We’d all done our time in the crappy cabins farther out.

  We parted ways at the split. Donald walked ahead while I paused at the waterfront and took it all in. The dock. The paddleboats and kayaks. Our little island.

  That was the thing about summer camp. The job made sense: Wake up, set up the field, play sports all day, keep kids from killing each other. Try to eat and sleep in between. Sing songs, roast marshmallows, dress up in costumes, dominate Capture the Flag, sit on trial at Kangaroo Court.

  It was pretty idyllic in every way. Or it had been, until last year.

  As I set up my bunk, I came to a decision. If Bee wanted to be enemies, fine. But that didn’t mean I had to fight back. I made a solemn vow, one I’d actually keep this time: no matter how I felt, I would not be involved in any camp drama this year. With my stepdad, Tim, and my mom’s divorce, I’d had enough real drama to last a lifetime. This summer, no secrets, no fighting, and absolutely no feelings.

  “BEE, THAT WAS a little harsh,” Margo said, once Ben had ducked out. “Can’t you two bury whatever this fight is already? Have you even tried?”

  “We’re not in a fight,” I retorted. “And I have to help with some food stuff. I’ll see you in an hour?”

  “Sure, darlin’.” She shook her head, kissed my cheek, and grabbed Hana.

  I ducked into the kitchen, found my way to the paper goods closet, and huddled on the floor. Shane, the cook, didn’t see me. Or pretended not to see me. Thanks, Shane.

  Ben hadn’t even looked back. He’d just left Dam and disappeared forever. Well, probably disappeared into his cabin. And I’d have to see him in an hour anyway. I stood up, grabbed a stack of napkins, and started doling them into our little green table baskets.

  Truthfully, I didn’t know if I could handle this. His maddening, twinkly eyes and dusky-brown hair that flopped every which way. Something inside me still expected him to treat me like…like there was something between us. When there wasn’t. Clearly. Margo was right—I needed to cool it, or they’d all start talking again. And plus, I didn’t want Ben to think I actually cared.

  Maybe that could’ve occurred to you a little earlier, Bee?

  I kept forgetting what I was supposed to be doing, how I was supposed to feel. Like I was in a play, trying to play ten characters at once, with ten different sets of motivations. Where was Raphael when you needed an acting coach?

  I made several trips back and forth from the kitchen, setting out the baskets on our blue-and-yellow picnic-style tables, imagining my character as an efficient lady with more important things to do than miss a boy.

  The thing was, I did miss him—I missed my friend. Ben and I used to tell each other everything each summer. And sometimes we’d text each other funny links during the year. Not like Hana and Claudia, who couldn’t go a day without texting each other. But Ben and I had a similar silly sense of humor. There were certain things I’d find online that I knew he would get and no one else would, so I’d send them, and the stuff he sent me always made me laugh. His texts were bright spots during the long weeks of studying and rehearsals. It made me feel…special, like he was always thinking of me, even when we weren’t at camp.

  This past year had been weird—looking at schools without talking to him. Picking a school without talking to him. Picking a school in Boston without talking to him.

  He still didn’t know.

  As if he’d care. I was kidding myself if I thought he’d ever felt special because of me. To him, all we had ever been was that barely-a-friendship friendship. And what had happened last summer had killed even that pretty effectively.

  EVERY FOURTH OF July, the whole camp goes to the nearby lighthouse to watch Messina’s fireworks together. Then the counselors ditch the campers, put the CITs on watch, and meet at Nest. We call it the sparkler party.

  This particular sparkler party progressed like usual: At first everyone was cripplingly awkward. Sometimes when you work with kids 24/7, you forget how to socialize without them. But then we remembered that alcohol helps with the awkward thing. I had a few beers, Ben had a few beers, and Donald had a few beers and proceeded to set three sparklers off at once in one hand and start screaming. Claudia calmly shook up a can and doused him. Margo videoed the whole thing.

  Eventually, Donald insisted on Truth or Dare, which meant we all got to see Bobby streak across the clearing in the moonlight. While everyone was hooting at him, Ben and I stood next to each other, nearly silent in shock.

  “Jesus Christ.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t we close our eyes?”

  “I know,” I whispered back. “I can’t unsee that.” He snickered, close to my ear. His breath made my skin prickle like saltwater. I tried to ignore it.

  At the end of the night, the senior counselors packed up their blankets and headed back down the path. Like robots, everyone started to follow them. But I was still awake, and I realized the torch was being passed to us. Or, the sparkler bucket with blackened sticks. And blankets, and a warm cooler of floating beer cans, and cards everywhere. In grand tradition, we were being stuck with the cleanup.

  “Hey, all—we need to get this cleared before we go.” I crossed my arms.

  “Aww, Bee,” Donald groaned. “We’re exhausted. We were up at six thirty.”

  “So was I!”

  “Sweetums…” Margo drawled into a yawn. “We can take care of it tomorrow.”

  They didn’t get it. My parents didn’t mind counselor parties, but there was an unspoken agreement that we left no trace of them. We couldn’t leave Nest like this overnight. What if they came up here early?

  “Never mind.” I shook my head.
“I’ll do it myself.” Hana opened her mouth to protest, but I waved at her. “Get some sleep, babe.”

  “Are you sure?” Margo asked half-heartedly, already drifting backward, toward the edge of the trail. They thanked me again and filed down the path. I turned away and sighed to myself. Whatever. You’re always the one who gets it done. Then I heard shuffling feet, and realized someone was still there, to my right, carefully collecting the scattered cards. My cheeks flushed, like they knew something I didn’t.

  “Ben, you don’t have to help.”

  He shrugged, smiled. “Eh, I’m not that tired.”

  I grinned. “Me neither.”

  FIFTEEN MINUTES AT camp, and I was already pissed.

  The cabins were lined up along Camp Dogberry’s shoreline, and for the second year in a row, I’d been tossed into the farthest one out, Otter. Cramped, ancient, devoid of electrical outlets, with no place to install your mosquito netting poles, which meant I had to duct tape them, and duct tape all the kids’ poles too.

  It was only my second year at camp, but I was eighteen years old. I’d just finished a year of college. Even one of the first-year counselors had a better cabin than me.

  I collapsed onto the smelly mattress and sighed.

  “Camp’s not so bad, right, Johnny?” my mom had asked, anxiously, watching me pack last night.

  “I like it there,” I had assured her.

  Camp Dogberry was one of King’s stupid plans.

  Last summer’s press:

  John Hernandez will be working at Camp Dogberry in Messina, Maine, with his brother, Donald King. “We’re getting these city boys some fresh air!” Senator King said, to a friend at the ACLU benefit dinner.

  I’d hated that my mom was letting him tell me how to spend my summer, but then it had actually turned out okay. I had friends, there was a girl I liked, I made some money. Not a bad way to spenda couple months, but I did have to get past the whole it-was-a-sham-my-asshole-politician-father-put-together-for-his-own-image thing.

  I hadn’t planned on coming back this year, but then Donald had chickened out of his swanky internship, and my mom and I had gotten the call. Not like I had my own plans, like chilling for the summer at home with my mom in NYC. No, of course not. My entire state of being was waiting for instructions from King, obviously.