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“Yes. I’m afraid there’s a bit of a problem.”
Franny frowns slightly. It’s an echo of the half frown she gave me upon my first arrival at camp, when the family Volvo finally pulled up to the Lodge at the cusp of eleven. Franny greeted us with the same expression I see now.I wasn’t expecting you,she said.When you didn’t arrive with the others, I thought you had canceled.
“A problem?” I say, trepidation thickening my voice.
“That sounds so dramatic, doesn’t it?” Franny says. “I suppose it’s more of a complication.”
“About what?”
“Where to put you.”
“Oh,” I say, which I’m sure is what I said when Franny told me something similar fifteen years ago.
Back then, my lateness was to blame. They had already gotten all the girls settled into their cabins, grouped together that morning by age. Since there was no more room available with girls my own age, I was forced to bunk with ones who were several years older. That’s how I ended up with Vivian, Natalie, and Allison, intimidated by their additional years of life experience, their acne-free complexions, their fully formed bodies.
Now Franny tells me it’s the opposite problem.
“My intention was to give the instructors some privacy. Let you have a nice cabin all to yourselves. But there was a bit of a mix-up with planning, and we find ourselves with more girls than we initially expected.”
“Fifteen more,” Lottie says, unprompted.
“Which means all our instructors will have to share lodgings with some of the campers.”
“Why can’t the instructors bunk together?”
“I asked her the same thing, Emma,” Lottie says.
“That’s a fine idea in theory,” Franny tells us. “But there are five of you and only four bunks in each cabin. One person would have to bunk with the campers anyway. Which wouldn’t be remotely fair to that single person.”
“Couldn’t we stay in the Lodge instead?”
“The Lodge is for family only,” Mindy pipes up from the corner of railing where she’s been watching our conversation. She gives her ring finger a wiggle, drawing attention to the fat engagement ring circling it. The message isn’t subtle, but it’s clear. She’s one of them. I’m not.
“What Mindy means,” Franny says, “is that although I’d be thrilled to have all of you stay here with us, there simply isn’t enough room. This house can be deceiving. From the outside, it looks plenty big. But the reality is that there aren’t enough bedrooms to spare. Especially for all five instructors. And you know I can’t play favorites. I do apologize.”
“It’s fine,” I say, when in fact it isn’t. I’m a twenty-eight-year-oldwoman being forced to spend the next six weeks living with strangers half my age. Definitely not what I signed up for. But there appears to be no way around it.
“It’s not fine,” Franny says. “It’s an awkward situation, and I’m so sorry to be putting you into it. I wouldn’t blame you one bit if you decided to get back in the car and demand to be driven directly home.”
I’d be tempted to do just that if I had a home to return to. But the artist subletting the loft is probably moving in at this very minute, everything booked and paid for until the middle of August. It is what it is, as Marc likes to say.
“Can I at least choose my cabin?”
“Most of the campers are settling in now, but I think we can accommodate your request. What did you have in mind?”
I touch my charm bracelet, giving it a quick twirl. “I want to stay in Dogwood.”
The same cabin I stayed in fifteen years ago.
Although Franny says nothing, I know what she’s thinking. Her expression shifts as quickly as the sunlight glinting off the lake, revealing confusion, then understanding, then, finally, pride.
“Are you certain you want to do that?”
I’m not even sure I want to be here at all. Yet I give a firm nod, trying to convince not only Franny but also myself. At least Franny buys it, because she turns to Lottie and says, “Please arrange it so that Emma can stay in Dogwood.” To me, she says, “You’re either very brave or very foolish, Emma. I can’t decide which one it is.”
I can’t, either. I suppose that, just by being here, I’m a little bit of both.
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO